


As the Flames Go Higher

by TCRegan



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bondage, Dom/sub, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 37,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3533327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian finds himself disowned by his father. Living on his own in Kirkwall for a year, taking on a string of odd jobs to pay the rent, he falls into one where he meets a very gorgeous elf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Vee for the title. Though this was very nearly going to be called, "Plugs and Drugs" I'm glad it got changed at the last second.
> 
> Just wanted to write something lighter while I finish up Ascension. Hope you guys enjoy!

"I don't understand why you don't just come home."

Dorian sighed. It was an argument he had multiple times already, and really had no desire to have again. "Because I'm not going to live off you and your father. I need to make my own way in the world."

"Your own way that involves wearing paper hats and aprons that smell like yesterday's grease."

Dorian scoffed. He had half a mind to hang up on his best friend, claiming his cell service was shut off. But as Felix's father paid the bill, he knew that wouldn't fly. "I told you, I quit that place."

"You lasted a week less there than you did at the clothing shop."

"As disgusting as a second hand clothing store can be, you can at least make _some_ of those things look fashionable. Greasy fast food will never be in fashion."

"You're such a prima donna."

Dorian smirked. "Yes but that's why you love me, isn't it?"

A heavy sigh. "You'll at least come for the Wintersend party next week? Father's looking forward to seeing you."

"I could hitchhike, I suppose…"

"He's already bought you a plane ticket."

Dorian rolled over onto his side, the flannel sheets shifting as he lifted his head to check the clock. "You know I'll be there. Will… my father be in attendance?"

Silence for a minute. And Dorian knew why. Since his father kicked him out of the house nearly a year ago, he'd been on his own. Well, mostly. Alexius owned an apartment building in Kirkwall, a good investment in its own right. It was a converted office building in a nicer part of Lowtown. Too expensive for the poor drunkards, but in the wrong neighborhood to be considered 'upper class'. Dorian normally wouldn't have been caught dead in such a place, but he had nowhere else to go. Except perhaps Alexius's estate, where he'd stayed for a month after leaving home, until he felt like he was taking advantage and had to leave. Of course he was living now nearly rent free on a generous allowance from his old mentor. It wasn't as if Alexius couldn't afford it, but Dorian felt guilty taking money from him in a way he never had when it was his own father footing the bill. Thus began a string of very bad jobs involving entry level positions around Kirkwall.

And now, unemployed once again, Dorian was finding it difficult to rise before noon. He was only awake now at eight in the morning because Felix called him. He could have taken a job in Tevinter, something in politics. He had the connections to do so, but the scandal of his involvement with another magister's son reached the ears of nearly everyone in the Magisterium. And with Tevinter's backwards views on sexuality, he'd become something of an outcast. Though Felix mentioned that Halward was receiving some flak for disowning him. Perhaps Tevinter was on its way toward catching up with the rest of Thedas and joining the modern world. After all, two men in Ferelden could get married and no one batted an eye. Maybe his getting kicked out of the house and the family was a good thing.

Then again, he thought, as he sat up, looking around the rather spartan room, maybe not.

He missed the lavish halls, the plush carpets, and the ostentatious decorations of his father's mansion in Tevinter. Servants to bring him his food on a tray while he lounged on soft leather sofas, watching television on a large, crisp screen. Now? He didn't own a television, though he'd been allowed to take his laptop, which until last year had been top of the line. Getting the newest, latest electronics every month was a thing of the past, something that took a lot of adjusting to. Eating less lavish meals and learning to cook for himself had been disastrous, but a harsh lesson that he learned. He could now prepare pasta without it turning all mushy, and cereal was still delicious even if he had to pour the milk himself.

"He's been invited. But he knows you have as well. So-"

"So he might not show up. Good. Well, if things go terribly wrong and he _does_ show up, at least I can spend the night getting drunk off decent wine instead of the swill they serve here."

Actually, even alcohol in all its abundance in Kirkwall had become something of a bit of luxury. Despite ale being less expensive than bottled water – he'd never drink tap, that was just disgusting – Dorian found himself drinking less overall. It just wasn't as fun when you were alone or in a smoky bar by yourself, as it was sitting around the lounge with others of the same social status, sipping brandy or scotch and discussing the latest scandal. He wondered idly if his former "friends" were talking about _him_ now, and thought that they must be still. It made him feel a little better at least.

"I've got to go. I have a meeting in ten minutes," Felix said, sounding apologetic. "Will you be all right?"

"You know I'll be fine," Dorian assured, though he appreciated his friend's concern. Perhaps not the overbearingness, but he preferred that to the alternative – which was to be ignored completely. Which was what his aforementioned "friends" had done.

Felix and his father were chancing an awful lot in supporting him, even as the rest of the country looked at him like _he_ was the freak because he happened to prefer the same sex. And he knew that both men would come under scrutiny, possibly have their own sexuality questioned because of their friendship with him. While Alexius had lost his wife some time ago, he never remarried. Dorian knew it was because he'd been deeply in love, and every other woman he met after couldn't hold a candle to her. And Felix was buried neck-deep in work, managing his father's businesses, learning how to be capable, that he hadn't much time for dating. Still, the rumors were just whispers now, little paragraphs in the tabloids that Alexius kept Dorian as a rent-boy, or that he and Felix were secretly fucking behind Alexius's back. One of the papers even included a private photo of Dorian kissing Felix's cheek in greeting – something that was considered normal even among men in Tevinter, yet had been blown wildly out of proportion for the subject of the article.

"I'll pick you up at the airport next week."

"Looking forward to it," Dorian said sincerely. "Tell your father I said hello."

"Bye, Dorian."

"See you."

He hung up, tossing the phone on the night stand, which was just an overturned milk crate. The apartment came only partly furnished, and while he enjoyed the soft mattress, he lacked a proper frame for it. It was only due to the consignment shop up the street that he found a box spring that fit. In fact, a lot of his furniture came from that shop, and as embarrassing as it was to have to purchase things second hand, he found he enjoyed sanding and staining the old wooden table and antique desk he rescued. And by rescued, he really meant pulling it out of that old man's hands. _He_ saw it first, after all.

Keeping the space clean was easy, though he'd made multiple internet searches for which cleaners he should use for the microwave and counters. On two occasions, he had to call the poison control center when he'd accidentally inhaled a massive amount of ammonia. Three calls to the fire department when the microwave caught fire, and he finally learned that to reheat fast food – it was free from work! – one must first remove the foil wrappers. In all though, it wasn't _hard_ living on his own. He was doing rather well, he thought.

He hopped down the two steps that led from his 'bedroom' area and stripped on his way into the bathroom, which was little more than the size of a closet, containing a toilet and stand up shower. Scrubbing yesterday off himself, he indulged in the scented body wash, shampoo, and conditioner that Felix sent him as a, 'congratulations' for being hired at the last job he worked. But Felix was always doing things like that, sending along little care packages. And it was only due to his friend's good nature that Dorian was even able to pretend he still maintained the same decadent living style that he'd grown used to.

Stepping out, he toweled off and walked back through the apartment naked, not minding the large glass windows that were prevalent throughout the building. After all, it used to be an office building, though for what he had no idea. And there was nothing wrong with giving the occupants in the building next door a nice good morning view. He dressed, having been allowed to take quite a few of his clothes with him when he left, and checked his email and the morning news. Two new job opportunities: one to help unload trucks, and the other waiting tables. He deleted the first and replied to the second, attaching his resume which was now full of retail and service positions, and thought he could handle this new venture. After all, servers made a lot in tips if they were good, and he could be good.

Taking his phone and wallet, he headed out for the day, intent on putting in at least a dozen applications and perhaps to try out the new little bistro he saw the last time he'd ventured into Hightown.


	2. Chapter 2

So waiting tables was _not_ as easy as Dorian thought it would be. But at least the restaurant was upper class, and he knew the menu without even really studying it. His family traveled a lot for his father's job, and he'd eaten at all the finest restaurants in Thedas. The Hightown establishment offered many dishes, not just from the Free Marches, but from Tevinter and Orlais as well. He likely knew more than the other servers had on their first day of training, and thought his supervisor was pleased with him for that. It helped that the man was easy on the eyes, too. Then again, getting involved with someone you worked with was never a good idea.

No, it was easier to seek out a partner in a bar or a club, though they never had been more than one night stands, and Dorian rather longed for something more. Sex was great, but if he could find someone to actually date, that would be better. He flirted with the guests that came into the restaurant, men and women alike, even married couples and anyone who looked like they would appreciate a gorgeous man winking at them. He gathered quite a few phone numbers, none of which he would likely call, but it felt good to be wanted, even though he was no longer the son of a powerful magister.

In fact, anonymity here wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Of course back home no one would snap their fingers at him and order him to bring them more wine. Or berate him that the duck was cold. Or make fun of his accent. All right, so maybe anonymity here was pretty bad. But at least he didn't have people sneaking around trying to take pictures of him while he was trying to eat, or accosting him on the street for one thing or another. He _liked_ being popular, but sometimes it was nice not to have to deal with the responsibilities that came with it.

He wondered if his father missed him, then brutally shoved away the thought. He wanted to be angry at his father, not feel sympathy for him. After all, it was he who'd thrown Dorian to the wolves. The ultimatum was to get married – to a woman – or leave. And Dorian preferred misery in obscurity rather than the misery in popularity. After all, he could take care of himself (with a little help), and this way he wouldn't end up dragging some poor girl down with him. Though he supposed a rabid social climber would have been more than happy to attach herself to his family, even if it meant living in abject hatred of one another. Then he could _really_ follow in his father's footsteps.

"Dorian!" his supervisor hissed, waving him over.

Dorian went, adjusting his tie and smoothing his gleaming white apron. "Yes?"

"Messere Hawke and his guest have just arrived for lunch. His normal server is off today so I want you to take care of him. Your other tables will be covered. Make sure you get his order right. He's very particular. And his guest is a picky one."

"…All right." 

Dorian knew the name, of course. Garrett Hawke had his hand in everything in Kirkwall. His family was upper class, though his mother married a Fereldan of no social standing. After disappearing for nearly a quarter of a century, she returned to the city with her children in tow. A widow, she took back her maiden name. Kirkwall's Amell line ran very, very far back. Almost as far back as some of the Tevinter houses. The old noble families were all interconnected, after all.

"Don't take anything they say personally. Please, please don't screw this up."

Dorian was getting irritated now. Spill one salad and they never let you hear the end of it. "I'll be brilliant," he said through gritted teeth, and took a breath before heading over the table, smiling. "Good afternoon."

Hawke looked up, green eyes narrowed slightly as he surveyed Dorian. A scar ran from just above his left eyebrow down to his cheek, and Dorian wondered idly where he got it. Bar fight? Hawke seemed the type, all brawn and broad shoulders, full beard like a mountain man you saw in the old movies.

"What's on special?" he said by way of greeting.

"We have a-"

"Never mind," Hawke said, cutting him off. "Two T-bone steaks, mid-rare. That okay?" he asked his companion.

Dorian glanced across the table where a head of white hair was visible just above the menu. When the menu dropped, Dorian had to silence his sharp intake of breath. If Hawke was handsome, his companion was gorgeous. Natural tanned complexion, angular features that worked very well in his favor, and strange silver-white tattoos that ran up his exposed forearms, neck, and chin. Dorian had a sudden desire to learn exactly where else the tattoos might be, and realized that Hawke's companion was an elf. Because of their natural beauty and the fact that humans somewhat fetishized them, elves were often in positions where they could be seen as standards of beauty. Models, actors, even musicians, though Dorian was quite sure most of the elven 'boy bands' lip synced to much more talented singers as they pranced around stage in their tight leather outfits.

"That's fine."

_Maker,_ Dorian thought. His voice did not fit his body. Elves were supposed to have lyrical voices, weren't they? But he liked it, deep and sinful, and entertained a brief fantasy of hearing that voice whispering dirty things in his ear.

"And a bottle of whatever Tevinter vintage you have that's good," Hawke said, taking Fenris's menu and handing both to Dorian.

"Excellent choice, messere," Dorian said with a slight incline of his head. He took the menus and left to fill the order, wondering why anyone would think Hawke was a difficult guest. He knew exactly what he wanted and wasn't picky about it. Maybe his supervisor was overreacting.

As he'd been pulled off his regular tables, after delivering the bottle of wine and pouring two perfect glasses, Dorian slipped into the employee bathroom to text Felix and update him on his new job.

**Week two going well. Met Garrett Hawke and friend. Friend is hotttt.**

He smirked when Felix replied back.

**Don't get fired for hitting on hot friend.**

Felix knew him too well. Maybe there was a subtle way of slipping his phone number to the elf. Or discreetly taking a picture. Deciding that would be too creepy, he did a quick search on his phone for Hawke's companion.

"Garrett Hawke, entrepreneur, blah, blah, blah," he sighed. "Hm. Cute boyfriend," he muttered, looking at the tall, blond doctor Hawke had his arm wrapped around in every publicity photo.

But as cute as the boyfriend was, he was more interested in the friend. He searched, though without a name it was difficult to find anything. Finally he broke down and searched for, 'gorgeous elf associated with Garrett Hawke,' and tapped the link for images.

"Maker's breath…"

There were a lot of gorgeous elves associated with Garrett Hawke, apparently. He was co-owner of a modeling agency, founded just a few years ago with his sister Bethany, who was a cute little thing with a pretty smile and good hair. Dorian checked the time and decided he would look specifically for the hot friend later, now that he had the name of the agency. Sure, it was probably a little invasive, but that's what happened when you put your private life on display. Or in his case, when your father put it on display for you, he thought bitterly. He hadn't searched for his own name in some time – one of his favorite pastimes before he left Tevinter.

He delivered the steaks to their table, topping off their wine and was pleased when Hawke requested a bottle to take home. They ordered one dessert – to share? Dorian wondered. But when he asked them if they needed an additional plate, Hawke smirked.

"No, the apple tart is for Fenris. I'll just take a cup of coffee. Cream, no sugar."

"Very good, messere."

It had taken him awhile to call people 'serah' and 'messere', the titles strange and foreign to a tongue used to addressed others as 'Lord' and 'Lady.' Not to mention the fact that when he ventured into the Free Marches, it was usually other people who addressed _him_ as such. At first the idea of it bothered him. Then he learned that you could quickly diffuse a situation with the right amount of flattery. Even if it made him a little sick to do it. Damn it, he was the son of a magister! He shouldn't be folding clothing and washing dishes and bringing people their food. Part of him wanted to swallow his pride and beg his father to allow him to return home, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. Better to work retail than pretend he was anything but the disappointment he was to his father.

Shoving the morbid thoughts from his mind, he put on his best smile as he delivered the dessert and coffee, and the check when Hawke requested it. After making sure they were all set, he retired to the back of the house once more and allowed himself to get pulled into a conversation with two of his coworkers who wanted to know what it was like to serve the illustrious Garrett Hawke.

"A bit dull," was all Dorian could come up with without betraying his attraction to Hawke's friend. He patted his pocket where his phone waited.

"Dorian," his supervisor said, swinging around the corner. "Hawke wants to talk to you."

"He couldn't just leave the tip on the table?" Dorian asked, eyebrow raised. But it was another opportunity to see Hawke's friend, so he went, hoping it was a compliment on his perfect service and not a complaint. "Everything all right?" he asked, hoping his voice didn't betray his annoyance and apprehension. When a guest wanted to speak to you in _any_ profession, it usually wasn't a good thing.

Hawke held out a thick stack of bills with a card on top, eyeing him critically. "Have you ever modeled?"


	3. Chapter 3

The thing about being nervous was that he was very good at hiding it behind confidence. So he didn't tap his foot or clear his throat on the elevator ride up to the top floor. He buried himself in his phone, doing last minute research on the company he was about to interview for. He'd called Felix the previous night to inform him about the prospective career.

_"Modeling? Well that's perfect for you. All you need to do is stand there and look pretty."_

_"That does sound like it would suit me, doesn't it?" Dorian asked, unable to stop himself from grinning._

Felix was teasing, but Dorian was pleased. And if modeling didn't work out, he could fall back on serving. It wasn't as bad as the other jobs he'd taken, and Hawke was a fantastic tipper. The other upper crust guests they helped weren't so bad either, and in two weeks he'd earned more in tips than he'd had in two months of folding clothing. Of course, budgeting was a foreign concept to him, so he'd blown quite a bit of it on a celebratory bottle of Tevinter wine from work. With his twenty percent discount of course. And it was good, too. He always enjoyed a nice, deep red, and while he wasn't familiar with that particular flavor, he thought he would send a bottle to Alexius the next time he could afford another one.

Most of his night was filled with trying to find the exact perfect outfit for the interview. Casual, Hawke said. They were just going to take some headshots, see how well things worked out, and call him if they wanted him. He thanked him, promised he'd be there, and tried not to stare at his friend's ass as they left the restaurant.

_Fenris._

Dorian wondered if it was a modeling name. Because that's what the rest of his night was filled with. He'd looked up the company and found portfolios for the models. Not all elves, and for that Dorian was relieved. He didn't want to be the only human, though he thought he could handle the spotlight well enough. Hawke, it seemed, dealt with some very beautiful people, both men and women. But the only one Dorian was interested in was the one he saw at the restaurant. And his name was Fenris. He was short for an elf, and Dorian thought his weight listed must be wrong. It seemed much too high for someone so thin. Then again, Fenris was covered up when he saw him in person, and the pictures betrayed an awful lot of beautiful muscles that could have attributed to the inflated number.

Ogling a potential coworker was not a good idea, and he thought if he saved the pictures that would be akin to downright stalking. But he did bookmark the page anyway, thinking that if he didn't get the job he would delete it and try not to think about Fenris. He woke early the next day, showered, and dressed in a comfortable suit that Alexius purchased for him specifically for interviews, the silken grey shirt and black tie the most professional thing he owned that was for business and not pleasure. He had too many clothes that were more suited for a glass of wine at a club or a lounge and not enough that said, "I am a businessman." Felix probably had the opposite problem, and had they been closer in size and stature, Dorian would have simply borrowed a suit from his friend.

The elevator doors opened and Dorian slid his phone back in his pocket before stepping out into the lobby. The receptionist looked him over, her dark, wavy hair falling over her bare shoulders. Rivaini, he could tell, from the skin tone and the accent when she greeted him. Her white tank top seemed out of place for a professional environment, and barely contained her very generous assets. If Dorian was inclined toward the fairer sex, he might have jumped at the opportunity, as he recognized the lean forward as an obvious come on. He almost felt sorry to disappoint, wondering if he'd found a kindred spirit.

"You're the new boy Hawke scouted? Very nice," she purred, looking him over appreciatively.

Dorian fingered the collar of his jacket before spreading his hands with a smile. "Your boss has impeccable taste, what can I say? Of course he couldn't let me go once he saw this profile." He turned to her and traced his fingertips down the bridge of his nose and chin.

"Ooh, I like you."

"Everyone with sense does."

She gestured to a seat across from her large, sleek black desk. On the wall behind her in big, black letters, was the company's logo proclaiming, "HAWKE & CO" tastefully underlit in soft whites. Dorian sat in one of the three comfortable chairs, unbuttoning his jacket. He leaned forward, taking up one of the many fashion magazines and sat back, legs crossed as he waited.

"You know," the woman said, "I'm free tonight."

There it was. He looked up with a smile. "As much as I would love to-"

"Gay?"

He blinked. Maybe he wasn't used to having it pointed out in such a way, so forward and without any hint of disgust, but it was the first time in a while that someone had actually rendered him speechless. "I, ah."

She shrugged. "A lot of the models are. Oh well. Your loss." She smirked as she sat back once more.

"Sadly so," he said. And he wasn't lying. As comfortable as he was with himself, he knew beauty when he saw it, and she was attractive. And confident. Another man would be very lucky to take her to bed.

A woman with short black hair and a harried looking smile came around the corner. "Dorian?"

He looked over and recognized her at once as Garrett Hawke's sister, his partner in the company. She wore an off the shoulder long-sleeved shirt, pale yellow, the sleeves pushed up. Her black pencil skirt was modest, cut off just above the knee, and her shoes were very, very fashionable. This season's Marcone's from Antiva. Had he been living at home, he could've easily bought the men's equivalent without blinking. Now? They would cost him more than a year's worth in food. Being (somewhat) poor gave him an idea what things cost now.

He stood up, tossed the magazine down, and shook her hand as she crossed to him. "Ms. Hawke."

"Bethany, please. My older brother is Hawke."

"A fact that Carver hates," the receptionist added.

Bethany stuck her tongue out at her, while Dorian buttoned his jacket.

"Come on," Bethany said, waving him through.

Dorian breathed a little easier when the receptionist winked at him, and he followed Bethany into the next room. It was a large, flat area divided into several moderately sized spaces. A few were empty aside from random bits of equipment, but most were made to look like some type of scene – an expensive kitchen, a lush sitting room, an auto yard with the latest sports car and so forth. 

"So I read that you don't really specialize in any one type of model," Dorian ventured.

Bethany looked pleased that he'd done his research. "It's true. Garrett has an eye for beautiful people, and as long as you're not picky in what you present, we set you up with companies across Thedas for just about everything. Adverts in magazines, commercial presentation, billboards. Mostly we do fashion shows because they bring in the most profit and the models always get to keep an outfit or two. That's one of the perks. That and travel. The last show we did was in Val Royeaux. Bit of a mess. We're likely heading back to Denerim this season."

Dorian bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying exactly what he thought about Fereldan fashion. "Is that how you became so popular so quickly?"

"Mostly. Networking's helped. Mother has a lot of connections in the Free Marches. And Garrett does seem to know how to pick the pretty ones." She looked him over with a quirked eyebrow.

Dorian preened a bit. He could get used to the positive attention he was getting regarding his looks.

They stepped through another hallway and into a dressing room that was empty aside from the far vanity, and Dorian had to again bite his tongue, but this time to keep from saying something that would likely cost him the job. Fenris was sitting shirtless, phone in hand as he swiveled a bit in the chair. He looked up when Bethany called his name.

"This is Dorian," she said. "Could you get him settled? Garrett wants specific photos for testing. Merrill's free today." She looked at Dorian. "Garrett did mention this was going to be an all-day thing, didn't he?" She picked up the clipboard that hung on the wall by the door.

"Er, no," Dorian answered, tearing his eyes away from Fenris. "He said this was just an interview."

Bethany frowned. "I'll need to talk to him about hiring people without their consent. I think he assumed you'd just fit in." She looked embarrassed.

"I… I'm hired?"

She held up the clipboard. "If the headshots work, he's got you penciled for onsite shoots all next week. If you don't want-"

"No, no," he said quickly, flashing a winning grin at her. "I was just surprised, that's all."

"Beats waiting tables," Fenris said, coming up. He slipped his phone into the pocket of his jeans as he shrugged on a button-down shirt. "Come on. I'll show you around."

Bethany shook his hand again, apologizing once more. Dorian assured her it was fine, and followed Fenris, pleased to know that that tattoos were, at least, all over his torso.


	4. Chapter 4

The photo shoot was fairly laid back, the photographer a chipper little elf named Merrill that Fenris seemed to have a slight aversion to. Dorian was moved and positioned much like a doll as Merrill tried to get the best shots. He was told to stand this way, look up, look down, tilt his head, hands on his hips, hands down, jacket off, tie undone. In all, it was a very exhausting but rather fun morning. Of course it helped that Fenris oversaw the entire thing, and kept his eyes focused on Dorian, who responded in kind unless Merrill directed his eyes elsewhere.

"How are you naked?"

Dorian, who'd just been wondering if they were going to break for lunch, startled. "Sorry?"

Merrill tilted her head. "Naked?"

"She means are you comfortable doing nude shots," Fenris clarified.

Dorian's mind raced with the idea. He knew there were more than a few pictures of him, bare ass on display, floating somewhere around the internet. He'd been sunbathing in his own backyard, and of course Antiva had quite a few nude beaches. But it was one thing for the tabloids to get a hold of a photo of him during a private moment, and another thing to willingly put himself on display for the sake of an advertisement.

"It's not a requirement of the job," Fenris continued.

"I would have to consider it carefully," Dorian said, hoping the answer was neutral enough. He was learning how to cope with being a disappointment and embarrassment to his father. It would kill him do something that would potentially make Alexius ashamed of him. He would have to speak to his mentor next week during the Wintersend party.

_Next week!_

_Shit!_

"I ah… I suppose this is a bad time to mention-"

"Chin up, there's a dear," Merrill instructed him.

"About Wintersend-"

"Oh do you have plans?" Merrill asked lightly. "We don't work on the holiday but we're super booked for the week after. But you're coming to the house party tomorrow night, right?"

"I wasn't aware," Dorian admitted. "But of course, I'd be happy to come."

Merrill grinned. "Hawke's got a heated indoor pool and everything. You should bring your trunks!"

Fenris rolled his eyes. "It's a celebratory event," he explained, arms crossed. "Business casual."

"I'm going swimming," she said defensively. "Honestly, Fenris, you are just no fun. It's a wonder Hawke keeps you around."

"I make him money."

"There is that," she teased. She looked back to Dorian. "Shirt off?"

Dorian loosened his tie and draped it over the only prop in the room – a high backed chair he'd sat in for the close ups. As he untucked his shirt, he noticed Fenris looking at him rather appraisingly, and smirked. Keeping his eyes on Fenris, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, Merrill giving him approving, excited encouragement. The soft silk shirt slid off his shoulders, revealing his sleeveless white undershirt.

"Keep it just like that, around your arms, and look here, chin up a little, no… Fenris, could you-"

Fenris strode forward, and Dorian unconsciously licked his lips before a thin finger crooked under his chin, positioning his head. "Eyes up," Fenris said, as his own eyes flicked to Dorian's mouth before he moved away.

_Oh. He knows I want him._ That would make it either very easy or very difficult, depending on Fenris's inclinations. Dorian was usually much slyer about intentions. You had to be when you were dealing with sons of politicians. It was easy enough to walk into a brothel and pay for a male whore. It was another thing to dance around a conversation to see if someone was interested in potentially engaging in a scandalous affair. A year in the Free Marches and it was easier to read the signs. Someone bought you a drink, you invited them to sit next to you, a hand on a knee or a thigh, and it was a wonder they ever made it to a hotel room or the other man's house. He wanted to bring them home to his own loft, but somehow he almost felt like it would be a betrayal to Alexius.

"Perfect!" Merrill proclaimed, snapping one photo after another, tilting the camera this way and that. "Drop the shirt, then slowly take the tank top off."

Dorian did not _drop_ the shirt, as one did not drop an expensive silk garment on the floor, no matter how clean it was. He folded it carefully and laid it on the chair with his jacket. Then, turning back to Merrill, he crossed his arms over his chest and pulled the hem of his shirt up slowly to reveal his stomach, eyes on Fenris the whole time to gauge his reaction. Dorian knew exactly what he looked like, his flat stomach that he worked very hard to keep, spending the necessary time with a private trainer to sculpt himself the way he wanted. Of course he'd given that up after being disowned, but no matter how depressing it was to have lost the expertise, he continued the routine that would let him keep his muscles and form.

Merrill whistled appreciatively. "Oh! I'm sorry. Hawke says I'm not allowed to do that."

"I don't mind," Dorian said, pulling the shirt over his head. He stood with one hand on his cocked hip, the other laying comfortably on the back of the chair, completely unself-conscious. "How would you like me?" he asked, his voice dropping to a sultry tone, and counted it a personal victory when Fenris's expression flickered from mild amusement to… desirous? _Good. Very good._

Merrill continued to give him instruction, and Dorian was torn between giving her exactly what she wanted, and screwing up on purpose so that Fenris could come over and correct him. He thought it might be a bit too obvious if he did that, after all, and he was supposed to be the one who liked playing hard to get. He didn't want this opportunity to slip out of his fingers though.

"I think we should break now for lunch," Merrill said. "Fenris can show you the cafeteria! And then come by the editing room. I'll show you how we change up the lightning and all. Oh, I wish it wasn't so cold outside. I'd love to do something in the sunlight with your skin."

"Sunlight does tend to favor me," Dorian said, starting to dress.

"Maybe if you're with us in a few months we can do some swimsuit shots!"

"My, but you are enthusiastic about getting me naked," he said, wondering if he should be worried or not. Merrill was passionate. But perhaps a bit too much.

"Don't flatter yourself," Fenris said. "She's like that with everyone."

"Has she gotten _you_ naked?" Dorian asked, hoping to further test his interest.

Fenris's lips quirked, as if he were going to grin.

"Oh no, Fenris doesn't do nudes," Merrill said sadly. "We did that issue by the pool side in the speedo though. Remember, the one for the calendar? He was Mr. Justinian! It's a shame we didn't do it for profit, but we raised so much money for charity that year."

Dorian smirked. The beginning of summer… For some reason it didn't suit Fenris. With his stoic face he pegged him for more of a Kingsway or Harvestmere. Autumn storms with falling leaves rolling into winter. Then again, he wasn't going to complain about the idea of Fenris in nothing but a very revealing swimsuit. He wondered if the calendar was available somewhere online.

"The less said about that, the better," Fenris said quickly. "Done?" he asked as Dorian pulled on his jacket.

"Lead the way."

"Don't forget to come by after lunch!" Merrill said. "Hawke should be in to look at the film and I'm sure he'll want to talk to you."

"We'll be there," Fenris promised, though he sounded exasperated, and was already heading off.

Dorian jogged lightly to catch up, tie hanging loosely in his collar. "I admit when I came here, I thought it would be less…"

Fenris shrugged. "Hawke saw potential. He's good at his job. It's what makes the company successful."

"And did he find you the same way? Waiting tables?" Dorian wondered if it would be too forward to ask Fenris for his phone number now, seeing as how they were somewhat officially coworkers. He could pretend it was for work advice.

"No."

Dorian waited for him to offer more, and when he didn't, he tried again. "Did he steal you from another agency then? Were you already modeling?"

"Something like that."

Dorian sighed. He supposed Fenris was just an intensely private person. Very well, he didn't need his life story, after all. "So what's the company's policy on fraternization?"

Fenris stopped short. Before Dorian knew what was happening, he was pinned against the wall, being kissed breathless. His first thought was how very nice it was for someone else to take the initiative. His next was how _good_ it felt to have Fenris there, pressing against him. In Tevinter, he made regular trips to the brothel. Not a week went by without some type of sex either paid or not. But in the last year, his encounters were few and far between. It was nearly two months now, and the object of his lust was kissing him as if it were his last. Dorian bent his head low, groaning into his mouth as Fenris pressed his hips against Dorian's, grinding hard.

And then it was over, and Fenris was shoving himself away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and Dorian was left with suddenly tight trousers and the desire to insist that Fenris finish what he bloody well started. For a moment they stood, panting, looking at one another. Fenris's lips were slightly swollen, and Dorian imagined he must have had a similar expression on his own face. Unbridled lust. Wanton need.

"Don't cause drama."

"Beg pardon?" Dorian asked, about to defend himself.

"You asked the policy. The policy is 'Don't cause drama'. Otherwise, Hawke doesn't much care."

"I see."

"We should get lunch. Merrill's going to work you late."

"…Very well."

Dorian followed him down the hall, wondering what the next step to take was. Normally kissing moved right into sex. But it seemed to not be heading in that direction at the moment. Perhaps Fenris was the one playing hard to get?

Well if that was the case, Dorian was more than up for the challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait another couple of days before posting but I learned that it was Nioell's birthday. As she is such a lovely person and she's enjoying this tale, I decided to put this up early for her to enjoy. Happy Birthday!


	5. Chapter 5

Dorian sat on a leather loveseat, Fenris next to him, phone in hand, not really paying attention. They had a quiet lunch, Dorian asking general questions about the company, the job, and other safe topics. He mentioned he was from Tevinter, which caused Fenris to clam up entirely, and it took some coaxing to get him to open up again, answering questions about Hawke. Hawke and his family moved from Ferelden and immediately took control of his family's fortune by doubling it with a risky business venture. He seemed to be a maverick of sorts, playing high stakes. Dorian admitted if only to himself that he was partly intimidated by the man, and partly impressed.

And speaking of Hawke, he was looking at his film from the day's shoot. "I see she got you to take your shirt off."

"I figured it was a fair repayment for giving me the job."

Hawke smirked at him over his shoulder. "It'll look good in the cologne ad."

"Hopefully a decent scent."

"We have some samples somewhere," he said flippantly. "Isabela in reception can get you a couple."

"I think I'll like the perks of this job."

"Change the lightning a bit there," Hawke said, gesturing to the screen. "No, do-"

Merrill smacked his hand. "Hawke, let me do my job."

"Ow. Right." Hawke sighed and left her to it. He turned, leaning against her desk, and crossed his arms. "You've never done this professionally? I could have sworn I've seen you somewhere."

"Ah. Well, you probably have. My father's something of a famous politician in Tevinter." He watched Hawke's eyes flick to Fenris and back. What was it, he wondered.

"Not into politics then?" Hawke asked.

'Not into women,' is what Dorian wanted to respond with, but decided that was a conversation better left for the Tuesday after never. "Something like that. Felt like coming south to experience the world out from under his thumb."

"Not every day you see some rich upper class snob take a job serving tables."

Dorian narrowed his eyes slightly, not sure if he liked the flippant, easy description of himself. "Yes well, one has to make one's living somehow."

"Guess they do." Hawke shrugged. "Merrill says you're out of town for Wintersend."

"I hope that won't be a problem. I wasn't exactly planning on having a new job so quickly."

"Family's family," Hawke said graciously. "As long as you come back so we can use your face again."

"And chest!" Merrill said. "Hawke, he's a natural, look."

Hawke glanced back at the monitor, and Dorian looked. Vain as he was, he had to admit that Merrill's tweaking made him look even more gorgeous. Chin up, looking at the camera, shirt halfway off, he thought that if he saw himself in an advertisement, he would definitely have to buy whatever they were selling. The film flipped and he watched himself undress, the picture of him with his eyes slightly off camera, fixed on Fenris. He looked at him now, leaning against the arm of the chair, fist pressed against his cheek, phone down. He seemed thoughtful, introspective. Dorian was reminded oddly of Felix, who often became lost in thought at times. Then he pushed that thought away. He didn't want to compare Felix, who was like a brother to him, to Fenris, who evoked feelings in him that he would not associate with a sibling.

"He looks good. He'll sell a lot." Hawke glanced at his watch. "I have a meeting with the viscount, then I have to get Anders from the hospital. Put him in blue jeans next. We know he can rock the suit, see how he does casual." He leaned down and kissed the top of Merrill's head before looking at Dorian. "They tell you about the party tomorrow night?"

"It was mentioned," Dorian said, sitting up straighter.

"Seven, don't be late. Isabela will get you the address. Do you drive in the city?"

"Er, no." Dorian had owned three cars in Tevinter, even though driving in Minrathous was insane. He and Felix would head out to the country, to the lake house every now and then. And while he knew how to drive, he preferred it when someone else did. In Kirkwall, everything was within walking distance. Or there were taxis, but they were awfully expensive.

"No one does, don't worry," Hawke said, waving a hand. "Never mind. I'll send a car."

"That's kind of you," Dorian said, his head spinning slightly. Was this normal for an employer to be so familiar so quickly? Maybe it was just in Hawke's nature. He wasn't going to complain though, he hated to take public transportation. While most of the jobs he had were easily accessible by foot, in the case of one of them, he had to take the subway. That was an experience he soon did not wish to repeat, the denizens of Darktown less than savory. If they weren't passed out drunk, they were looking for 'spare change.' Or a place to stick a knife.

Hawke waved a hand. "Fenris I'll see you tonight if you're coming home."

Fenris made a noncommittal grunting noise, and Hawke left them to it. Dorian wondered what Hawke meant by, 'if you're coming home.' Did Fenris live with Hawke and his boyfriend? Were they all together? Did Fenris join in every now and again? His mind ran away with thoughts of Fenris being sandwiched between Hawke and the blond doctor – Anders – and he had to quell the jealousy he felt. Merrill stood, leaving the monitor on one of the pictures of Dorian shirtless, stretched, and gave a little skip.

"Come on. We've gotta get you changed!"

So many questions running through his head, he wasn't sure if he wanted answers to any of them, Dorian followed.

-

"I don't even know if it's normal," Dorian said, phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder.

He was standing in the little kitchenette area of his loft, dressed a pair of pajama bottoms, stirring a pot of what he hoped would eventually be macaroni and cheese. The noodles were sticking together, but they were still hard and crunchy for some reason. He took the phone in his hand, glancing at the pizza delivery menu on the fridge forlornly.

"What's that?" Felix asked.

"How they do things there. How Hawke does things."

He'd spent the better part of twenty minutes telling Felix all about his day, the surprise job acquirement, Isabela in reception – who was a lovely flirt – Bethany, Hawke, and Merrill. He purposefully did not talk about Fenris, making it seem as if he wasn't even there for the shoot. If asked, he wouldn't be able to say exactly why he avoided the topic. Everything about the day was confusing, and the kiss Fenris planted on him made it even worse. He was beginning to doubt it even happened, like his mind was playing cruel tricks on him. Maybe he was going insane. Maybe that's why the pot of water was boiling over and the noodles were still hard. Frustrated, he turned the stove off, drained the water and tossed the mess in the garbage. Grabbing the menu from the fridge, he returned to bed and pulled up the website to place an order.

"I couldn't tell you, Dorian. Maybe Hawke's simply a different kind of boss."

"Mm. Perhaps. It was fun, though. And Merrill, the photographer," he reminded him, in case Felix forgot in the last five minutes of their conversation, "she sent me the pictures. Do you want to see them?"

"Of course."

"…I'm such an ass. Felix, how are you doing?" He'd been talking about himself almost since the time Felix answered his phone.

Felix laughed. "Dorian, I would be worried if you didn't start the conversation with a monologue about yourself. I'm fine, seriously. Just buried in work. Been feeling a little under the weather."

Dorian scowled. "Felix, you need to take care of yourself. It's less than a week until Wintersend. Can't you stop working and relax?"

"It's not that serious, just a cough. You know how father worries when I catch the sniffles."

It was true. Alexius was a bit of a mother hen. But then, his wife had died slowly of a wasting illness that even the best healers in Thedas couldn't cure. They feared it was hereditary, but Felix never showed any signs of it or any other genetic diseases. Alexius insisted on a full physical every six months though, and as annoying as it must have been for Felix, he'd seen how his mother's death affected his father, and happily submitted. However, it often meant that when Felix _was_ sick, he hid it for as long as possible so as not to worry him. Sometimes that made things worse, though.

"Fine, but if you're not better by the time I get there, I'm forcing you to the doctor's."

"Yes, Father," Felix teased. "So you haven't said a word about Hawke's hot friend."

"We were talking about you," Dorian insisted, finishing the pizza order and pulling up his email. Leave it to Felix to realize he'd been avoiding the subject. "Check your email for some sexy pictures."

Silence for a minute while Felix opened his email. "Very nice," he said dismissively. "You have abs. We're all jealous. Now, are you going to tell me what happened? Did you insult him?"

"He kissed me."

"What?"

Dorian laughed at the incredulity of Felix's tone, almost as if he didn't believe him. He couldn't blame Felix. He barely believed it himself. "He kissed me as we were walking for lunch and then he didn't say a damn thing about it after. I'm going to a party tomorrow at Hawke's house. Presumably Fenris will be there-"

"That's his name?"

"Yes, Fenris. Apparently he lives with Hawke and Hawke's boyfriend."

"Kinky."

Dorian laughed. "I guess. I don't know. We'll see. But I'm definitely coming home for Wintersend, regardless of what happens. Maybe I'll have a juicy story to tell you when I get there."

"I'll have to live vicariously through you when it comes to that," Felix said sadly.

"That's another reason you should take a break from working. You're younger than I am and you haven't had a date in over a year." Dorian winced as soon as the words left his mouth. If Felix were a lesser man, he might have taken a potshot at him and pointed out that Dorian hadn't had a proper date since they left school. Men like Dorian in the Imperium didn't 'date' after all.

"Father's on my case about that, I don't need to hear it from you," Felix warned.

"All right, all right," Dorian conceded. "I just want what's best for you, you know. I love you."

"I know," Felix sighed, then coughed. "Maybe I'll see doctor tomorrow. If nothing else I can get something to put me to sleep. Look, Dorian, I still have about an hour's worth of work, so I'll call you this weekend, all right?"

"All right," Dorian said, worried. "Tell me what the doctor says."

"I will. Good night."

"Night."

Dorian hung up and plugged the phone back into the charger before stretching out in bed, thinking about his friend. He hoped it was just something minor. Antibiotics and he'd be right as rain in a few days. That thought in mind, he flicked on a movie and waited for his food.


	6. Chapter 6

Dorian was used to opulence. The car that Hawke sent was fairly modest, but in his current living situation, it was a painful reminder of home and what he was likely missing in the upper elite social circles of Tevinter. And if the car hadn't done it, the mansion certainly would have. Tevinter-style, as Kirkwall, and in fact, all of the Free Marches had once been under Imperium rule. Dorian learned about the great wars in school, fascinated by the history of his country. It was one of the subjects he actually excelled at with little study. The architecture of the house mirrored a lot of the older style villas back home, with its sharp angles, gold and green motif, and more than a few dragons. He thanked the driver and stepped out onto the street, shivering. It was so cold in the south, and his stylish, ankle-length leather coat wasn't exactly up for the bitter winds that came off the Waking Sea.

He walked casually up the winding path to the open front door and stepped into the foyer. The high-ceilinged entryway made him feel right at home. A crystal chandelier hung above him, and in front of him, a large stone staircase that split and double backed. A butler was there to take his coat, and Dorian tucked his sunglasses into the pocket, confident that Hawke's servants would take good care of his things. He was led through a hall, down a set of stairs and into a leisure room. The ceiling was made of glass, moonlight streaming through it, giving the room a decidedly outdoors feeling. In the center sat a giant indoor heated pool. Several of Hawke's friends were partaking already, he waved to Merrill who waved back cheerfully, and a few dozen more milled around the patio. Directly opposite, he saw sliding glass doors that led to a barroom and billiards table. It really was just like being back home, he thought, as a servant stopped with a tray of champagne glasses. He took one and searched for the man of the hour.

Hawke sat on a patio sofa, surrounded by people both sitting and standing, all of them listening raptly to a story he was telling about his drunken uncle. His boyfriend sat next to him, leaning against him, looking tired but happy. Hawke had his arm wrapped around his shoulders as he gesticulated, emphasizing his tale. Anders rolled his eyes at some point in the story. Dorian missed the punchline as he approached, but the people surrounding him laughed in a sycophantic sort of a way. He wondered if Hawke was aware of how many were there just because he was rich and famous, and then wondered further if he was now kiss-ass as well, all things considered. Hawke looked up, spotting him through the crowd.

"Dorian. Glad you made it."

Heads turned, and Dorian smiled at once. Being the center of attention was easy. "I couldn't miss the party of the year, could I?" He strode forward, pleased when Hawke stood fully to shake his hand, a measure of respect.

Hawke gestured to the man next to him. "My fiancé, Anders."

Fiancé, not boyfriend, Dorian thought, and he admired the very shiny ring on his finger as he shook Anders' other hand. He quelled the sudden jealousy, not for either man in particular, but both. _They_ were going to get married, and _he_ had been stuck having one night stands behind closed doors. He smiled through it. "Good to finally meet you. You're even more handsome than in your publicity photos with Hawke."

Anders blushed faintly, shrugging a bit. Clearly he wasn't as comfortable with the attention as Hawke was. "He says you're the newest model for the company. Congratulations."

The whispers that filtered through the little group were nice. Dorian's name would be around the social circles here soon enough. He would make himself as popular in the south as he was in the north. _See father, I_ can _survive without you._

"Thank you. Though I have to give the credit to Hawke. He apparently has an eye for beauty. Well, that should be obvious considering who he's marrying."

Hawke slid his arm around Anders' waist and gestured toward the barroom. "Come on. Let me get you something better than that." He excused himself from the crowd.

Dorian followed, handing his half-finished glass to a passing servant. Inside, the lights were softer, the atmosphere more relaxed. The entire room was decorated in tasteful dark brown and light cream colors. Three men stood around the billiards table, glasses of whiskey in hand as they took turns shooting. On the wall opposite, a large flat screen played the latest sports recap show, three leather armchairs facing toward it. He felt comfortable at once. There was just one thing missing, but he was sure how awkward it would be to ask where Fenris was.

"What do you drink?" Hawke asked.

"Scotch?"

Apparently that was the right answer. Pleased, Hawke released Anders to slip behind the bar, and pulled a bottle from underneath. He poured out two glasses and held an empty third questioningly for Anders, who shook his head. Hawke poured him a soda instead.

"Not drinking tonight?" Dorian asked, settling himself on one of the leather bar chairs.

"I don't drink usually," Anders replied, sitting next to him. "Feels a bit hypocritical, considering my job is to teach people to live a healthier lifestyle."

"So, a doctor. That's impressive. I wouldn't have the patience." Dorian paused. "That wasn't a pun."

Anders grinned and shook his head, while Hawke chuckled.

Hawke held his glass up. "To new business investments."

"Hawke," Anders sighed. "What he means is, 'We're glad to have you aboard.'"

"That's what I said," Hawke informed them, while Anders sighed again.

Dorian smirked, clinking his glass to theirs. "I'll drink to it."

They spoke idly for a bit, Dorian knowing exactly where and when to offer an anecdote, and how to coax a story or three from Anders, who seemed shy at first, but opened up eventually. Hawke excused himself to greet a few more guests who wandered in.

"So he found you waiting tables?" Anders asked.

"So very cliché," Dorian lamented. "But yes."

Anders hesitated, looking as if he wanted to say something. He sipped his soda instead.

"Go on," Dorian pressed.

"You're Dorian Pavus."

"Last I checked," Dorian said, biting back what he really wanted to say. Which would have been something like, 'Not if my father has anything to say about it.'

"Why is the son of a Lord Magister waiting tables in Kirkwall?" He sounded apologetic, but Dorian had to forgive him. After all, he gave Anders the go ahead to ask.

"Ah that. Well, my father and I disagreed on my future, and I thought it best that I leave before things became too strained. Further apart, we can pretend that everything is just fine between us." Not quite a lie, not quite the truth.

Anders, observant as he was, seemed to know this, too. But he tactfully did not comment. "I haven't seen my father since I was young." He quickly changed the topic. "How are you getting on here?"

Dorian gestured around. "Sitting in Garrett Hawke's mansion, drinking scotch with his gorgeous fiancé, and reminiscing about my life? I'd say I was doing fairly well."

"I suppose so," Anders agreed, but he raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

Dorian held his gaze, trying not to let his smile falter, and was relieved when Anders stood up.

"I should go rescue Hawke from his guests. Be sure to say good night before you leave. Enjoy the party."

"It was good meeting you," Dorian said, lifting his glass in parting. He watched him leave, and felt his heart speed up when he saw Fenris approach.

Anders nodded briefly to him, asked him a quiet question, and Fenris shrugged irritably. Anders scowled and they parted ways, Anders to find Hawke, and Fenris toward the bar. He stopped when he saw Dorian, and it was hard to gauge his expression.

"Good evening," Dorian greeted as Fenris slipped behind the bar, as if he owned it himself. He wondered again just how close Fenris was with Hawke. He didn't seem to get on with Anders, or maybe he'd just read the conversation wrong. Not likely, though.

Fenris nodded, poured out a shot, downed it, and poured another one. "Evening."

"Rough night?" Dorian asked.

"Rough life," Fenris said sardonically. He held up the bottle questioningly and Dorian pushed his glass forward.

"Something you want to talk about? I'm willing to listen."

Fenris eyed him warily. "Why?"

"Isn't that what friends do?"

"Are we friends now?" Fenris asked, before tipping back the second shot. He capped the bottle and put it away.

"You tell me." He wondered if Fenris was always this antagonistic in the evenings, and wondered further if it was worth it to continue his pursuit. A nice piece of ass was one thing…

"I… apologize. My irritation is not your fault, nor should it be your concern." He looked almost defeated.

"It could be. Look," Dorian said, leaning in, "the way I see it, we can stay here and talk about your day. You can tell me your troubles and I'll do my very best to listen. It's not a hardship for me, considering I rather like the way your voice sounds." He paused, letting the compliment sink in. "Or we can go somewhere more interesting. And you can tell me your troubles there instead."

Fenris was quiet for a while, and Dorian wondered if he was simply wasting his time. But the thought of Fenris kissing him yesterday was still fresh in his mind. Part of him wanted to know what was bothering Fenris, perhaps as a bid to get to know his new coworker. The other part, admittedly, simply wanted to get into his pants.

"All right." Fenris plucked a half-full bottle of wine from the rack and left the bar, heading toward a door that Dorian missed on his first look around the room. "Come on if you're coming."

Dorian finished his drink, slid from the bar stool, and followed.


	7. Chapter 7

The inside of Hawke's mansion didn't quite match the outside. Everything had been updated, from the carpets to the paint to the lighting. An old house like this should have antique rugs and tapestries. The foyer was a bit misleading, its look reminiscent of the old Tevinter houses. But further in, everything was contemporary. It made Dorian a little sad, longing for the restoration movements back home. He knew he would be seeing it again next week, and he missed it. While he liked Hawke – as much as one could like someone they'd only met a handful of times – he wondered what happened to the history of the place. In storage? Sold? Clogging up another wing of the house? It wasn't his place to judge his current boss, so he kept quiet, following Fenris through the halls.

Fenris opened the door to a room that was probably the size of his loft, and just as sparsely furnished. A large bed sat against the far wall, its black frame very low key, matching the two night stands that flanked it. The rest of the room's contents comprised a dresser in the same dark wood, a rather nice looking stereo with a turntable, and in the corner, curiously, a set of weights and a bench. Then again, Dorian supposed that Fenris probably preferred working out in here rather than going to a gym. But with a mansion as big as Hawke's, he certainly had his own home gym somewhere. Fenris shut the door behind them and locked it, and Dorian's stomach twisted pleasantly. Surely that meant only good things were coming.

"Sec," Fenris said, setting the wine bottle down on the dresser. He crossed the room to a door that Dorian realized must've been a bathroom.

He wandered over to the stereo, looking through the vinyl records. An eclectic collection, but nothing produced within the last ten or fifteen years. Rock and jazz, some classical, and even two or three big band. He picked out a smooth Orlesian jazz record and set the needle. He heard the sink running, then turn off, and Fenris returned from the bathroom dressed now in only a pair of jeans. Dorian raised an eyebrow, watching him toss a few foil packets on the night stand.

"Bit presumptuous," Dorian remarked. "I thought we were here to talk."

Fenris quirked an eyebrow. "Is that why you stared at me the entire time during the shoot? You wanted to talk?"

Fenris was advancing on him, and Dorian unconsciously took a step back. Usually _he_ was the one in control of the situation, leading the dance toward sex. Suddenly he understood. He was never in control here; he was not the leading man. This was Fenris's performance, almost from the first scene of the first act. His back hit the wall, and he realized that he very, very much liked this change.

"So you kiss me stupid in the hallway where we work, then leave me guessing?" Dorian reached up to pull Fenris closer.

Fenris grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the wall on either side of his head. "I wanted to be sure," he said, lips almost brushing Dorian's.

"Sure about what?" Dorian asked, leaning forward, groaning when Fenris pulled back.

"That I wanted you."

Dorian laughed lightly. "How could anyone not want me? I'm very want-able."

"You are arrogant. And spoiled. And selfish."

"Some of my best qualities," Dorian said, leaning forward again, only to be shoved back. 

Fenris's lips ghosted over his, his cheeks, and his ear. He let out a breath, Fenris dragging his wrist down until it met the light switch, and used the back of his hand to flick it off. At once, a soft blue light emitted from under the bed, giving the room a very romantic, very surreal feeling. The quiet jazz in the background completed the ambience, and Dorian thought the only thing missing might have been a few candles or rose petals. He was somewhat of a hopeless romantic. He knew that the pursuit of romance, after all, was hopeless.

"It will be worth the wait," Fenris murmured against his ear.

Dorian shivered, goose bumps up his arms. He flexed his fingers, wrists sore now where Fenris held them. "Good. Since we seem to be doing an awful lot of waiting, and not nearly enough of the other things we could be doing."

Fenris kissed the hollow of his throat, and Dorian groaned, head back against the wall, arching his body forward. The light kisses continued, feathering over his neck, nuzzling aside the collar of his shirt to nip at the skin there. Fenris pressed his wrists flat against the wall.

"Don't touch me," he warned, and released his wrists in order to start unbuttoning Dorian's shirt.

He had stranger partners in the past, he supposed. At least Fenris was a good kisser, and completely willing to keep the attention on him, which Dorian was fine with. He let his arms drop a little, but did not touch, though he wanted to. One button undone after the other, anticipation of Fenris's lips falling to his exposed flesh with every inch that was revealed. He moaned softly as warm hands slid over his stomach, his shirt falling from his shoulders. Fenris bent his head low and licked his right nipple. Dorian hissed when he bit it.

"Too rough?" Fenris chuckled.

"Maker, no," Dorian urged. "Fenris, I want more. Let me touch-" He raised his hands.

"No," Fenris growled, the playfulness gone.

Dorian dropped his hands obediently. He leaned back, letting Fenris carefully explore his chest, his shirt in an untidy heap on the floor. Wrinkled clothing was the last thing on his mind as Fenris swiped his thumbs over both his nipples, his hips bucking involuntarily at the stimulation. The pace was Fenris's to set, and he'd set it agonizingly slowly. Dorian wasn't sure what was happening. Usually they would fall into bed by now, someone's mouth would be on someone's cock or getting ready to be in someone's ass. And a good time would be had by both. Dorian wasn't sure what Fenris was getting out of this, but he at least seemed amused by the little noises, the gasps of pleasure and arousal he elicited.

Fenris knelt, and Dorian inhaled, anticipating the touch to the front of his trousers, his erection quite obviously tenting the black fabric. But Fenris took his time, unhooking his belt, leaning up so he could kiss his stomach, lick the flat plane of his abs. The muscles flexed involuntarily.

"Shoes and socks off," Fenris ordered.

Dorian toed off his shoes and leaned awkwardly to remove his socks, tossing them aside. The belt was gone next, and the button undone. Carefully, without brushing his erection, Fenris managed to unzip his fly, and it wasn't fair. He wanted to be touched. This was torture. He reached out to touch the top of Fenris's head, and faster than anyone had the right to move, Fenris was standing, pinning his wrists again. His pants slid to the floor, pooling around his ankles, and Fenris was glaring at him.

"Try it again and this stops. Got it?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Heart racing, no idea what the issue was, Dorian nodded. He kept his hands firmly at his sides, and stepped out of his pants when Fenris caressed his left calf, then his right. He tried to concentrate on the warm mouth that kissed the side of his knee, up his inner thigh. A tongue that trailed its way further up. He clutched at the wall when Fenris's nose nudged his cloth covered sac, and looked down to watch. It was always an ego boost when another man took his cock into his mouth. It certainly helped when they were talented and knew what to do without instruction. Fenris was definitely talented.

Tattooed fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers and tugged carefully, revealing the tip of his cock. The elastic was uncomfortable, pinning his prick against his belly, and he longed to shove his boxers down to give Fenris complete access. But he knew somehow that would be breaking the 'don't touch' rule. Fenris kneeled up, breath warm against his sensitive flesh, and Dorian moaned, head thrown back once more. Warm and wet, Fenris's tongue flickered across the slit, and Dorian thought he might die. It had definitely been too long since the last time. He wondered how embarrassing it would be if he came like a teenager, just from foreplay.

Very good, very _hot_ foreplay, but nonetheless. Potentially extremely embarrassing. Fenris's hands were on his hips, thumbs brushing over the well-defined muscles leading toward his groin. He shifted, the pressure on his erection uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

"You are impatient."

"On the contrary, I thought I was being extremely patient. It's your fault, you literal cocktease."

Fenris chuckled, then, grabbing the legs of his boxers, pulled them down to the floor in one swift motion. Dorian's hand jerked, wanting to stroke himself, but he stopped, pulling back just as quickly.

"Very good," Fenris praised him, and rewarded him by licking up the underside of his shaft, holding him steady at the base.

"Fenris!" Dorian stepped out of his boxers, hands balling into fists. "Maker's breath, let me touch you! Or something. Anything."

"No," Fenris said, pressing his lips to the tip of his cock. He kissed, then parted his lips and sucked, causing Dorian to gasp. He pulled back thoughtfully. "I think I'll fuck you though."

Dorian normally didn't care who was on top, usually having to direct his partner, or simply take the lead and be the top. But Fenris very much knew what he was doing, and Dorian very much approved the declaration, desire coiled in his belly.

"Yes. Can we do it now, please?"

"Get on the bed," Fenris ordered, sitting back and releasing him.

Dorian fairly skipped across the room, settled down on the large, puffy comforter, and waited anxiously.


	8. Chapter 8

Dorian watched Fenris unbutton his jeans and approach the end of the bed. The denim parted, and Fenris pushed them down off his hips, revealing his own gorgeous cock. Dorian licked his lips, wanting to sit up and take it in his mouth, to taste Fenris. The fear of everything stopping, of possibly getting kicked out of Fenris's bed, held him in place.

"Grab the headboard," Fenris said. "You can release if your arms get tired. But the longer you hold on, the better it'll be for you."

Dorian did as he was told, reaching up behind him and gripped the top of the headboard. Fenris stepped out of his jeans and crawled onto the bed. Dorian was pleased to see the silver-white tattoos swirling along his legs as well, over his hips and down to his thighs. They had to hurt, and he wondered why he'd gotten them. But Fenris was dipping his head, taking his cock into his mouth, and Dorian's thoughts centered on that wet heat. He closed his eyes, though he tried desperately not to, moaning as Fenris flicked his tongue around the tip.

Fenris wasn't lying when he promised it would be good. Dorian concentrated on the feeling of his mouth, his hands, running along the insides of his thighs, cupping his balls, squeezing gently. Little kisses over the sensitive skin at the crease of his hip before returning to his cock. He wondered how long Fenris planned on keeping him like this, at the edge of pleasure. He wanted to come, to be fucked, but he had to admit that this was the best he'd had in a long, long time. Then Fenris moved away, and before he was able to protest, Fenris was kissing him. Hot and insistent, he met Fenris's tongue. He groaned as Fenris slid over top of him, hips bucking, pressing his cock against Fenris's own hard length.

Strong fingers encircled his wrists again, despite him not releasing the headboard, and Fenris straddled him, rolling his hips again and again. Dorian whimpered, thrusting up, wanting more of that delicious friction. More than that, he wanted Fenris to fuck him. Fenris ducked his head, nuzzling his neck, then kissed, and he bit hard before sucking, tongue lapping at the bite mark. Dorian never allowed his partners to mark him, feeling it was too intimate, it would be too hard to explain. Old habits died hard even after he left Tevinter, and his one night stands were warned not leave bruises. But he thought he wouldn't care if Fenris marked him all over. And that was exactly what Fenris seemed to want to do.

Hips still gyrating, Fenris shifted to straddle a thigh instead, and Dorian thrust up, shamelessly grinding against him. Fenris nipped a trail from his neck to a nipple, hard enough to leave bruises in his wake. He bit the sensitive nub, dragging his teeth over it, and Dorian yelped in pain. The sensation shot straight to his groin, and Fenris did it again.

"Fuck! Again!"

Fenris laughed, but complied, moving toward the other to give it the same treatment, fingers rolling and pinching the first. Dorian squeezed his eyes shut, thrusting against Fenris's hips while Fenris scraped his teeth again over his nipple, and he never thought he'd feel so good. He thought he knew everything there was to know about sex with another man, gathering quite a lot of experience, but it was clear he still had a lot to learn. Especially when his orgasm took him by surprise, rubbing himself against Fenris like a dog in heat.

He blushed, embarrassed at having come so quickly, but Fenris seemed amused. He reached over to the nightstand, plucking a few tissues from a box, and cleaned them off. He kissed Dorian almost sweetly, straddling his waist once again, and reached up, pulling one of his arms from the headboard. Very slowly he massaged his wrist and arm, Dorian purring, wriggling against the blankets. Fenris repeated the action with his other arm, and then cupped his chin.

"Suck me off."

"I thought you'd never ask." He hesitated. "No touching?"

"Just my cock," Fenris clarified, hand splayed on Dorian's chest. "Move down. I'm going to fuck your mouth."

Though he'd just spent himself, Dorian found his own cock twitch with interest. He _liked_ the way Fenris spoke, and his earlier fantasy of having Fenris talk dirty to him was surprisingly accurate in his thoughts on how hot it was. He slid down as Fenris leaned forward, knees on either side of his chest. Fenris took hold of the headboard for leverage, and Dorian was face to face with a beautiful prick. Just a simple thatch of pubic hair above his shaft, balls waxed or shaved, Dorian knew where he wanted to start. He nudged Fenris's cock out of the way to tongue the sensitive sac, determined to make this as pleasurable for Fenris as he'd done for him.

Fenris didn't speak, nor did he make a lot of sound. When he did, it was low and guttural, and went straight to Dorian's groin. By the time he got Fenris off, he would be ready to go again. Which was good, because he desperately wanted to be fucked. Fenris wouldn't be gentle, and while he wasn't used to the rough play, he was starting to realize how much he liked it. But he shifted his focus again when Fenris pulled back and pressed his cock to his lips. He opened his mouth, and tried to impart the technique he perfected. Fenris, again, had other ideas. Strong fingers sank into his hair and Dorian could only move a few inches either way.

"Pinch my leg if it's too much to handle."

That was the only warning Dorian got as Fenris did as he said he would, hips thrusting slowly at first, testing to see the amount of length Dorian could take in. Once he'd gauged that, Fenris started to buck his hips, and it was all Dorian could do to keep from choking. He tasted the salty precome, tongue flicking over what flesh he could, lips wet with saliva. Fenris slowed, then reached down with one hand, gripping his cock, and started to stroke himself.

"Suck it."

Dorian did as he was told, shoving the pillows under him so he could incline his head, and sucked the tip of Fenris's cock. He looked up, watching Fenris's face, gasping in startled realization as light green eyes were fixed determinedly on him. Though their coupling so far was quick, dirty, and rough, he thought he saw something in Fenris's expression, a flicker of something beyond lust. But it was gone in the following second, replaced by parted lips and closed eyes, and Fenris pulled back. Dorian tried to swallow the seed that hit his tongue, and knew that Fenris meant to come on his face and chest. Marking him like a dog, and he was embarrassed to find that he loved it.

Fenris sat back, resting on Dorian's thighs, catching his breath. Dorian didn't trust himself not to touch him, so he kept one hand beneath the pillow, the other he dragged slowly through the semen on his chest, and licked his finger. Fenris let out a noise that sounded like a low growl.

"Did I do well?" Dorian asked, his tone quiet and sultry.

"Round two in a minute," Fenris said by way of answer. He swung himself off Dorian and walked to the bathroom.

Dorian leaned up, peering through the door. He saw a very nicely sculpted ass as Fenris relieved himself, then heard the toilet flush, and the sink running. When he returned, he carried a glass of water and a washcloth. The former he handed to Dorian, while he sat on the bed next to him and gently wiped the come from Dorian's chin and chest. Dorian propped himself up and drank deeply from the cup, not realizing how parched he'd been.

"You often take care of your lovers like this?"

Fenris scoffed. "Lovers." He took the cup and drank what was left before returning both it and the washcloth to the bathroom.

Dorian sat up fully and followed him, careful not to touch him as he edged past. Fenris smirked at him in the mirror and left, pulling the door almost shut. Dorian used the toilet, albeit a bit awkwardly as he was still partially hard. As he washed his hands, he debated looking in the medicine cabinet. After all, that's what one did when one was alone in someone else's bathroom. But he resisted the temptation. Something told him that Fenris would know, get angry, and throw him out. Possibly without his clothing.

He returned to the bedroom, stopping in the doorway. Fenris was laying back in bed, stroking himself, a tube of lubrication in his free hand. Dorian let out a low, appreciative whistle, and Fenris glanced over.

"Get over here," Fenris growled, shifting.

Dorian grinned and slid into bed, letting Fenris pull him down for a kiss. Contrary to everything he knew about him so far, it was softer, sweeter. He still kept his hands down, though his fingers itched to cup his face. He broke the kiss, making a noise of longing.

"Fenris, I want…"

"You can," Fenris muttered against his lips. "Stay away from the ink. And the ears," he added.

Dorian brushed back his hair, careful not to touch his ear, then cupped his cheek, thumb running along his lips. _Gorgeous._ He leaned in for another kiss and Fenris returned it enthusiastically, pushing him back to the bed. Dorian sank into the mattress, enjoying the warm body keeping him pinned. Fenris pulled back, nose brushing against Dorian's.

"I want you on your hands and knees."

Dorian shivered. "While I like a man who knows what he wants, how about we do what I-"

But Fenris already flipped him to his stomach, grabbing his wrists again, and he knew this was what he wanted, too. So often when his partners would ask him for his ass, it would be quick and dirty against the wall, or he would ride them into the mattress. This was entirely new to him, and he shivered in anticipation of what was going to come. Fenris kissed a trail down his spine, and all thoughts of former lovers fled his mind.


	9. Chapter 9

Dorian dropped his shoulders to the mattress, face buried in the pillow, arms wrapped around it. Fenris ran his fingers from his neck to his tailbone, dragging his nails along the skin. He pressed warm, soft kisses to his hip, the swell of his ass. Dorian wriggled impatiently and Fenris laughed.

"Please, Fenris," Dorian begged, looking back over his shoulder. And begging was never anything he thought he would do, either in bed or out of it. But he wanted this, more than was probably good for him.

Strong, firm hands parted his cheeks, and he felt Fenris run a dry finger up his cleft. Dorian moaned, growing irritated at the next soft chuckle.

"Fuck me already!" Dorian ground out.

"Just like that?" Fenris muttered. "No."

Dorian swore in Tevene, burying his face in the pillow, and the hands stopped. The bed shifted, and he looked up, confused. "Fenris?"

Fenris was sitting on the mattress now, looking him over critically.

"What?" Dorian asked, trying to focus, though his erection made it very difficult to concentrate on anything that wasn't directly related to his cock.

"Do that again and I'll stop this short."

"What?"

"Speak that language."

"It's… it's my native tongue. What? Fenris, okay, fine. Whatever you want." A wild thought went through Dorian's head, and he wondered if Fenris was actually insane. He knew the adage about not sticking your dick in crazy, but what about letting crazy fuck you? Was that okay?

Fenris grabbed him by the hips and pulled him up once more. "Face front."

Dorian buried his face in the pillow again, and heard the flip top of the lubricant open. Then he felt a well-oiled finger run up the cleft of his ass, and he spread his knees further. The errant thoughts about Fenris's psychological state of mind fled, and his world shrank to the pressure against his hole. He thrust back, but Fenris grabbed his hip hard enough to bruise, and he forced himself to still. Belatedly he realized that Fenris must have changed the record, classical Antivan strings filtering through the room, and he concentrated on the flow of the piece as Fenris pressed two fingers inside him at once.

"Holy Maker," Dorian hissed, clutching the pillow.

"Pain?"

Dorian shook his head vehemently. "No, no pain, just feels full. Love it. Are you going to move or what?"

"Mm. Haven't decided," Fenris teased.

He shifted, and Dorian felt his cock, hard and pressing against the back of his thigh. Then, thankfully, he started to thrust his fingers slowly. Fenris curled them, stroking the little bundle of nerves inside him, and Dorian buried his face in the pillow, lest his shouts alert the entire house as to what was going on. Fenris reached around him and took his cock in hand, holding the base tightly.

"Don't have a ring here. Try not to come," he whispered, somewhere close to Dorian's ear.

Dorian thought he knew everything there was to know about sex. He'd read the articles online, watched the porn, paid whores. None of that compared to what Fenris did with his fingers, sending spasms of pleasure through every nerve in his body as he massaged his prostate. He couldn't help thrusting his hips back, and was grateful when Fenris allowed it. He canted his hips, needy noises slipping from his lips into the pillow as he chanted Fenris's name. The pressure on his cock and balls increased almost painfully, and he suddenly came, eyes squeezed tight enough that he saw spots dancing behind his eyelids.

Fenris laughed. "Good."

"Good?" Dorian panted. He looked down at himself, Fenris releasing his still-hard cock. A dry orgasm. That had never happened before. "Are you some kind of…"

"Hm." Fenris ghosted his fingers along his cock, and Dorian tried to buck into his hand, wanting more. Fenris laughed again, a low, teasing tone, and pulled away completely.

"I fucking hate you," Dorian ground out. He glanced to his right, where Fenris was leaning forward, plucking a condom from the night stand. The sound of the wrapper opening, and then the pressure was back. "Shit," he swore. "Never mind. Carry on."

The lubrication was warm and slick, and Fenris pushed in, Dorian feeling delightfully full. He bit down on the pillow, then remembered to breathe. For what felt like forever, neither of them moved. Fenris's fingertips tapped out a rhythm on his hips, in tune with the music playing.

"All right?" Fenris whispered, leaning down to kiss his back. "Moving now."

"Yes, please."

It was the last they said to one another. Dorian swore randomly and he remembered calling out Fenris's name quite a bit. As the tempo of the record sped up, so did Fenris, and Dorian stopped trying to meet his thrusts. He let himself be used, Fenris taking him hard and deep and fast. He reached up, gripping the headboard with one hand, the other reaching down to fist his cock. The dual assault of cock and fist, combined with his aching hardness, and he wasn't going to last long.

He felt nails scraping down the small of his back and hissed, arching away from, then into it. The same hand snaked around his front and found a nipple, and how Fenris was able to be everywhere all at once, Dorian didn't know. Twisting his nipple painfully, Fenris seemed to know exactly what he needed. Dorian shouted his name and came over his hand and the blanket, falling back to the bed once again, shoulders dropped.

"Hands against the headboard," Fenris warned.

It was the only warning he got, and he was thankful for it, because Fenris didn't waste any time. Short, sharp, vicious strokes now, he thrust into him. Dorian was glad he was spent, because he thought if he could go again, that movement would have gotten him hard straight away. Hips bruising, flesh smacking hard against flesh, and Dorian winced, only his hands braced against the headboard keeping him from being driven headfirst into it. Fenris seemed to need this, to enjoy it, and when he came, it was quiet, just a grunt and a whimper that was quite unguarded. He stayed there, not moving, breathless, and Dorian nearly fell asleep.

Fenris pulled back, and Dorian collapsed to the bed, wincing as he fell into the wet spot. With a disgusted, "Bleh," he rolled over and reached for the tissues on the night stand, doing his best to clean himself up. Fenris staggered out of bed and Dorian watched him meander back into the bathroom to take care of the condom, the sounds of water running, and he was back, waving Dorian over. Dorian scooted aside, and Fenris, rubbing his face tiredly, shoved back the covers before falling into bed.

Was Fenris a talker after sex? If Dorian was able to spend the night with his partner, he liked a bit of chatting before falling asleep. The cuddling was nice, too, but not always necessary. And with Fenris's aversion to touch, he doubted he would like that. But he wasn't being kicked out, so he slid under the covers as well, moving close enough to enjoy the body heat that Fenris provided, but not touching.

"Fenris?"

Fenris rolled over to his back to look at Dorian in the dim light of the room. "Hn?"

"Nothing. That is… ah, that was bloody fantastic."

Fenris exhaled shortly, an amused noise, and leaned up to kiss him. It was soft, and sweet, and Dorian wondered how someone who fucked like that was able to be so tender.

"It was really good," Fenris managed as they broke away. "I'm going to sleep. You're welcome to stay."

"I suppose that would only be polite," Dorian said, propping himself up, fist against his temple as Fenris rolled back over. "Why don't you like being touched?"

Fenris shrugged a shoulder.

"All right. We won't talk about that. Can I hope for a repeat performance in the future?"

"We'll see." His voice was heavy with sleep.

Dorian decided not to press his luck. If Fenris didn't want to talk or be touched, he would respect that. After all, it was the best sex he'd had in… possibly ever. The prospect of having it again was too tempting to ruin his chances with a little cuddling and conversation. So he rolled over and pulled the blanket up to his chin, letting the sounds of soft classical strings lull him to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Dorian stared out the little window of the plane, knee jiggling nervously. No matter how many times he flew, it always made him uneasy. At least Alexius sprang for a first class ticket, and when they landed in Minrathous International, he was one of the first ones off. He'd all but moved into Alexius's estate once his father kicked him out, and was able to travel lightly. His carryon was all he needed, laptop and phone along with some other essentials. He walked the terminal, taking his phone out now, checking his messages for the thirtieth time in the short flight from Kirkwall. Two texts from Felix letting him know they were on time and would see him in arrivals, and a text from Fenris.

They had a nice morning after together, a leisurely make out session, then a couple of soapy handjobs in the shower before Dorian left, taking a taxi back home. He was fairly sure Hawke and Anders were aware of what happened between him and Fenris. Oh, probably not the details, but the fact that he hadn't sought them out to say good night, and the knowing smirk on Hawke's face the next day when he saw him in passing at the agency. Dorian kept his head up though. There was no shame in what he'd done. He didn't, however, tell Felix about it when he briefly described the party and the next few days of work. He knew Felix would press him now. He waited a week to hear the gossip, and as straight-laced as Felix pretended to be, he loved juicy rumors as much as the next person. Even if the rumors were true and happened to be about his best friend.

The text from Fenris was a response to his question about the next time they could get together. Dorian got his phone number from Merrill – purely business, he told her, but he thought she might know better. He sent a brief text two days later, not wanting to appear too eager. _Hey, it's Dorian. Got your number from Merrill. Was wondering when you'd like to get together again for that repeat._ The response was a rather lukewarm, _I'll text you._ He hadn't seen Fenris since the night of the party either, Merrill helpfully informing him that he was busy with other projects. So Dorian spent a few hours filling out paperwork for the job, more than pleased with the salary range for proposed shoots, and the percentage of royalties from whatever products his pictures sold.

He slipped his phone back into the pocket of his designer Antivan jeans, the first gift of many, they informed him. They fit awfully well too, and he'd spent probably more time than was necessary checking out his own ass in the full length mirror at work. Wearing a tight t-shirt and sunglasses, he retained some anonymity as he strode through the airport, which was nice. He didn't need cameras flashing in his face, the morning headlines reading, "Disgraced Magister's Son Returns Home" or something similar. He stepped out into the warm, Tevinter afternoon, one of the many things he missed about his country. Kirkwall was rainy and cold during the season, and he missed the sun.

A sleek black limo pulled up, and he smirked as the driver stepped out, gave a slight bow, and opened the door for him. "Master Dorian." Gaius was tall and thin, his salt and pepper hair giving him a regal look. He'd been with the family for as long as Dorian could remember, and he was always amiable.

"Gaius. Good to see you. Felix treating you okay?"

A voice from inside, "Shut up, Dorian," preceded the owner. Felix was just as Dorian remembered, the same handsome features of his father, the same stocky build.

Dorian didn't even hesitate, unrestrained in his affection as he flung his arms around his best friend and held on tightly. Felix laughed and returned the hug, slapping him enthusiastically on his back before kissing his cheek.

"Did you lose weight?" Felix asked, when they parted. He smacked Dorian's stomach with the back of his hand.

"You try living on noodles and canned soup for a year," Dorian shot back, but he was grinning. "What is this?" he asked, reaching up, scrubbing Felix's buzz cut. "You thinking about going military on me?"

"As if I'd have the time to join the military," Felix said.

Gaius took Dorian's bag and waited until they were settled in the back before shutting the door. Dorian stretched out, feeling relaxed and excited, happy to be home.

"Maker, it's nice to see the city again. Even if it's just the airport."

"You sure you won't stay past the weekend?" Felix asked. "Father wouldn't mind if you took the week. Or longer."

Dorian flicked his sunglasses down, looking at Felix over top of them. "I can't. And you know I can't. _And_ you know why."

"They're not even really talking about it anymore."

"Tch. That means they have no taste. What's more important than my scandal?" Dorian asked, slightly ruffled. The only thing worse than being talked about, after all, was not being talked about. He laid his hand on his thigh, feeling his phone in his pocket. His fingers itched to take it out, to check to see if he'd gotten any other messages. But he knew he hadn't, and he didn't want to be rude.

"It's election year. Are you voting in absentia, then?"

Dorian shrugged, feeling disaffected with the political system. "No matter which way I vote, they're going to elect an Archon who'll uphold the status quo. It's what the Magisterium wants and the upper houses hold the power. Besides, the Chantry would never push for someone who wants change in the system. They would weep for their lost tithes."

Felix started to laugh, but broke off into a coughing fit, taking out a handkerchief.

"Felix?" Dorian asked, concerned. They hadn't spoken about Felix feeling under the weather since their last conversation about it, and Dorian hadn't asked if he'd been to a doctor yet. He leaned over, rubbing his friend's back.

Felix shook his head, wiped his mouth, and started to tuck the handkerchief in his pocket when Dorian grabbed his wrist. He looked at it, and what he saw made his heart drop into his stomach.

"Felix, is that blood? Are you coughing up blood?"

"It's nothing serious."

"The flames it isn't! Does your father know?" He was angry now, but it was anger borne of fear. He remembered Felix's mother's death, though they had never really learned the cause. Did it start this way?

"No," Felix said, pulling his hand away. He folded the handkerchief again and tucked it in his pocket. "And you're not going to tell him. No, Dorian, I mean it."

Dorian gritted his teeth. "Have you been to a doctor?"

"I have."

"And?" His patience was growing thin. He had half a mind to tell Gaius to bring them to the nearest hospital instead of home.

"They ran some tests and I'm waiting on the results. They come in next week."

"Next we-" Dorian scowled. "You couldn't have them rush them?"

"It's not going to change anything," Felix insisted. "It's been this way for-" He cut off.

"For how long?" Dorian asked, pulling his sunglasses off so he could glare more easily at him.

Felix shifted guiltily. "Three weeks?"

Dorian stared at him, silent. Three weeks and Felix hadn't said anything to Alexius. He was only just now seeing someone for it, and refused to get a rush on the results. Either he didn't think it was a big deal, or it _was_ a Big Deal with capital letters and to see the results would make it real. He tried to calm down, the pounding of his heart, the sick twisted feeling in his stomach. If Felix was really ill…

"Promise me you won't tell Father. He has enough on his mind."

"Felix, you know I can't do that," Dorian said gently. He would keep a lot of Felix's secrets from Alexius, and had. But they were all stupid kid secrets. Or slightly more important, yet still stupid teenager secrets. Breaking an ornamental vase or getting drunk at a party. Dorian was there to cover for him. Felix's transgressions numbered far fewer than his own. Had Felix been asking him for any other favor, he wouldn't hesitate to make the promise. "I'll wait until the test results, all right? But you have to tell him if they come back with something serious. Otherwise I am going to tell him. And you can't stop me."

Felix pursed his lips, but nodded. "Fine. That's fair. But you're worrying for nothing. I'm sure it's nothing bad."

"…You have the strangest sense of optimism."

"And you'd rather it be something serious?" Felix teased lightly.

Dorian knocked his knee against Felix's. "Ass. You know what I mean."

"Well you are you pessimist between us."

"Pragmatist."

"Mm."

Dorian rolled his eyes.

"You haven't said a word about Hawke's hot friend," Felix pointed out. "Usually I get to hear all about your latest. Fenris, right?"

Dorian knew Felix well enough that he was both interested in hearing the gossip, and also trying to change the subject. He would allow it for now, if only to distract himself from the sight of blood on the handkerchief, a knot of worry still sitting in his chest. "The sex was great."

Felix gave him a playful shove, grinning. "No kidding?"

Dorian couldn't help the small smirk that spread to a grin across his face. "No, I wouldn't joke about mind-blowing sex. He knew exactly what he was doing. Bit of a control freak but I kind of liked it."

"What else?"

Dorian shrugged, his smile faltering. "Not sure. He seemed open to another round, but I suppose he's busy. I haven't seen him since."

"But you work with him, don't you?"

"I do. But I've been doing on-site shoots. Bloody cold down there when you're posing outside, no matter what you're wearing. And the photographer is a touch insane. Sweet girl, though," he added absently. "No, I assume he's just been working other projects. I texted him… we'll see where it leads. Don't want to seem too hard up."

Felix smiled knowingly.

"I hate when you get that look." Dorian sighed. "What is it?"

"You _like_ him."

"Of course I do, Felix, he made me come three times in one night."

Felix waved his hands a little. "Too much information. No, I mean you like him. You don't normally talk like this."

Dorian shrugged, trying not to read too much into it. The sex was good. He wasn't too willing to let that go, not so easily. But to hope for more? Preposterous. You never hoped for more. "I'll text him again later. It's not a big deal."

But as Felix's expression remained smug, Dorian wasn't so sure if he was trying to fool his friend or himself.


	11. Chapter 11

Dorian's resolve to stay away from Tevinter nearly crumbled when Alexius hugged him. Like a second father, one who actually accepted him, Alexius had seen him through many tough times. He respected him, looked up to him, and aspired to be like him. Perhaps part of his not-so-hidden hero worship helped lead to the rift between himself and his own father. But still, he didn't think that it was right that Halward kicked him out the day he decided not to play along anymore. The fight started in the morning at breakfast, and by that evening he was packing his things, trying to hold back tears of anger as his father shouted at him from the doorway.

Tevinter held too many memories, both bad and good. Leaving was hard, but returning permanently would be worse.

"Dorian, you look good," Alexius said, holding him at arm's length. He patted him fondly on the cheek, smiling.

"I always look good," Dorian returned, but it lacked his usual arrogant tone. "Maker's breath but it's good to see you again. How are you?"

"Busy," Alexius admitted, gesturing him through to the sitting room.

Dorian was glad he would have the night to get settled before the party tomorrow. He wasn't sure he could take a flight and a reunion of all his old acquaintances in one day.

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving, actually."

Alexius called for a tea tray and poured three glasses of brandy himself before settling in his armchair by the fire. Dorian flopped onto the plush sofa with Felix next to him, and he looked around.

"Maker, I've missed this," he said, swirling his glass. "Kirkwall's so different. Not just the city but the people." Not that he didn't care for the blunt, upfront citizens of the Free Marches. Tevinter might have been more conservative, but it was simplistic in its tradition. Everything was expected to be just so. Then again, perhaps he was just nostalgic for his home, and lonely for the lack of his friends in Kirkwall. Tevinter was the country that scorned and ostracized men like him, after all.

"Is the apartment working for you?"

"Alexius, stop, please," Dorian said, somewhat pained. "You're doing more than enough for me. If I had to live in a closet, it would be too much."

"If I let you do that, I wouldn't be able to live with myself." Alexius waved a hand. "Besides, you've been more productive there than you would have been here."

"Oh, well, thanks," Dorian laughed.

"Father means that you tend to be lazy when you're content."

"Thank you," Dorian said, still laughing incredulously. "I didn't realize, 'Come home for Wintersend,' was code for 'Come home so we can point out all your flaws.'" There were very few people he would take this type of criticism from, and he supposed it was a long time in coming.

"It's true," Alexius continued, taking a sip of his brandy. "If you were still here, you would be comfortable. All boys flounder a bit after school until they find their purpose. I did. This way, you get some life experience without me looking over your shoulder. It's like watching a bird learning how to fly."

"Did he just compare me to a bird?" Dorian asked, looking at Felix.

"It was about time someone shoved you from the nest. You were getting awfully loud," Felix teased.

"Says the bird who's yet to fly the nest himself."

"Felix is never leaving the nest," Alexius said easily.

Felix rolled his eyes. "Of course, then you'd actually have to do your own paperwork for once."

"I've earned a break. After all, I raised you, gave you a decent education, taught you to be a gentleman. It's about time I get some payback. It's your job to take care of me in my old age." Alexius caught Dorian's eye, winking.

Felix made a face. "Old age," he scoffed.

The easy banter paused as a tea tray was brought in, and Dorian was glad he didn't have to keep up the conversation as he ate. He listened to Felix and Alexius fill him in on what was happening, the latest political race for the Archon's position, and a bit of idle gossip. Dorian, who spoke to Felix nearly every week and always checked the newspaper, was glad to hear more, and from an insider's perspective. It made him feel like even though he moved out of the country, that he was still a part of it.

"Felix says you're modeling now." Alexius was looking at him critically.

"Oh, what is that look for?" Dorian asked, waving the finger sandwich at him. "Disapproving?"

"You have such a brilliant mind, Dorian. You could do anything."

Dorian scoffed. "Anything except politics. Or to do with the Chantry. Or possibly even the schools, depending on how-"

"What I meant was," Alexius cut across his sarcasm, "is that your talents are wasted posing for advertisements. You should be working in research and development."

"You didn't have anything to say when I was flipping burgers in a grease pit a few months ago," Dorian said, somewhat bitterly.

"Actually I had a lot to say. Felix kept me from saying it."

Felix shrugged. "You said that Dorian needed to find his own way. He was finding it. I knew he wasn't going to keep the job for long."

"I _like_ modeling," Dorian insisted. "People staring at me all day, admiring my looks. And I get free clothes. And it pays well."

"And it has nothing to do with a certain young man?" Alexius asked, eyebrow raised.

Dorian turned to look at Felix, who held his hands up apologetically. "Gossip," Dorian tutted at him before turning back to Alexius. "It's a… fling. Or something. Casual." _Very casual,_ he thought, feeling somewhat bitter that Fenris hadn't texted him back yet. "Hawke is a decent employer. The hours are long but the job isn't taxing. I want to see it through for at least a season."

"Mm." Alexius pursed his lips, the disapproval not leaving his eyes. "Very well. It's your life. But you know that you can do more."

Dorian knew that Alexius was just trying to get him to be better than he was. Alexius was _always_ pushing him. But right now he was too tired to get into that argument. "We'll see where it takes me. And if I don't like it, I'll pick something else. Until then, it's better than waiting tables or folding clothes."

Silence, and Dorian knew what they were thinking. The same discussion that always came up. He could come home, live with them, continue as if nothing was wrong. But with the estrangement from his father, Dorian knew he wouldn't be completely comfortable in Tevinter. His country rejected him, and he was feeling bitter toward it, no matter how much he loved it.

"I invited your father tomorrow evening."

"Felix told me," Dorian replied, taking up his brandy glass again. He had every intention of being drunk during the celebration. Not only was it tradition to enjoy the seasonal alcohol, it would make any awkward reunions less so. Plus if his father did show up, it wasn't exactly a meeting he wanted to have sober.

"If he comes, will you speak to him?"

"If he deigns to be seen with me," Dorian said shortly.

The shouting match between them the night he left was still fresh in his mind. He still remembered the harsh words, the declaration of disownment. He'd taken a taxi to Alexius's house, using his credit card for the last time before his father cut him off. He was ashamed to admit how much he cried that night, alone in his room in Alexius's estate, embarrassed at how unraveled he'd become. Of course, by the time morning came, he was able to plaster on a forced smile, despite the concern from Alexius and Felix. In the days that followed, he overheard Alexius on the phone with his father more than a few times. The same argument, Alexius asking Halward to come, to just talk to Dorian. 

Dorian hated to think about the position in which he put Alexius. Relations had always been somewhat strained between Alexius and his father, but they were amiable, and could agree to disagree on most points. They voted mostly the same way when the Magisterium was in session, and both wanted the best for Tevinter. Unfortunately while they agreed on the budgets for education and military, when it came to social progression, Halward was almost unwavering in his conservatism while Alexius tended to be more liberal. It was strange, as Halward was much younger than Alexius, but the Pavus family historically leaned a little more toward traditionalist views. Halward's marriage was arranged, while Alexius met his wife and married her without any intervention from their parents. Dorian thought that simply made his father angry and bitter.

_If he can't be happy, he doesn't want anyone to be happy,_ Dorian had said on more than one occasion.

Alexius frowned. "He's still your father. He still loves you."

Dorian snorted derisively. "Right. I'm sure he told you that through his tears of regret."

"He didn't have to tell me, Dorian. All fathers care for their sons."

Dorian glanced at Felix, who shifted guiltily but hid it by taking another sip of brandy. With a sigh, Dorian placed his glass down and stood up.

"I think I'll have a quick rest before dinner tonight." He leaned down and kissed Alexius's cheek before turning to Felix, rubbing his bristly hair affectionately, and left the lounge.

"He'll be all right," he heard Felix say.

"I know. He's always all right. I just wish…"

Dorian listened to Alexius sigh, then fall silent. But he didn't have to hear the rest of the conversation to understand the conflicted emotions from his friend and mentor. At the very least, he thought, as he walked to his room, _they_ didn't see him as a disappointment.


	12. Chapter 12

Nostalgia often did not live up to the reality of itself. Dorian was learning this as he passed through conversations during the Wintersend party. Rumors of where he'd been and what he'd been doing the last year were grossly exaggerated. That he'd been kicked out of his house was more or less true, but the stories of what happened after ranged anywhere from cross-continent traveling, to becoming Empress Celene's new spy, and back again to pool boy for King Alistair. No one seemed to want to believe he'd simply settled in a Free Marches city and was leading a somewhat ordinary existence. So he let them think what they wanted, and if his advertisement photos ever reached Tevinter, they could make up more wild stories.

"Whatever makes them happy," Dorian muttered into his fourth glass of wine.

He'd bought a bottle of Antivan red for Alexius and presented it to him at dinner the night before where they spoke again about his potential future. They agreed on one more year in Kirkwall, just to see if his modeling venture took him toward something more illustrious. Alexius spoke about teaching him how to manage a business, perhaps opening up a modeling firm of his own in the future. And Dorian had to admit that it wasn't a bad idea. Not that he wanted to think about his own mortality, but he knew his looks wouldn't last him into extreme old age. His father was still a very handsome man, but genetics only took you so far. He would hesitate to go up against Hawke, however. If he took up the business management side of modeling, he would look outside the Free Marches to start.

Slipping his phone from his pocket, he glanced at the screen. No new messages. Maker, he needed to stop thinking about Fenris and what he was doing. Why he wasn't texting. The alcohol didn't help either, and the urge to send him another message was growing stronger. Against his better judgment, he set down his glass and responded to the last thing Fenris sent.

**At a boring Wintersend party. Would rather be in your bed.**

Before he could stop to decide if it was a bad idea or not, he hit send, and picked up his glass again. Felix caught his eye from across the room and waved him over. Slipping his phone into his pocket, he weaved through the crowd, nodding to those who greeted him, keeping the strained smile perfectly in place. He used to _like_ this type of crowd. Perhaps it was the year on his own, but he thought he preferred the quiet meal he had last night with Alexius and Felix.

"Holding up all right?" Felix asked, once they were alone.

"I seem to be out of wine," Dorian said, showing him his empty glass.

Felix waved over a servant, thanking them when they refilled both his and Dorian's. "There."

"Much better. I find the company is much more preferable if I am suitably drunk. Yourself excluded, of course."

"Of course," Felix agreed, with a dubious sort of grin.

"What about you? Are you sure you should be drinking, considering that you're…" He glanced around to make sure they were out of earshot. "Not feeling very well," he finished tactfully.

"I wasn't told not to. Besides, I'm not a lush."

"Are you implying that I am?" Dorian asked, taking a generous sip just to be contrary.

Felix laughed. "Why are we friends again?"

"Circumstance of proximity and your general bad luck that follows you everywhere."

"Like an errant puppy." Felix tried to keep a straight face, but his lips curled into a slight smirk.

"At least I don't pee on the carpet." He felt his pocket vibrate and took out his phone, swiping his thumb to unlock it. His eyes widened a little as he read.

**If you were in my bed, you would have to listen to my instructions.**

"Good news?" Felix asked.

"Of a sort." Dorian handed him his wine glass as he replied.

**I think I can handle that. What would you want me to do?**

He sent it and took his glass back, feeling pleasantly tipsy, and more than a bit wicked. Not that he was the first person to send dirty text messages during a formal affair, nor would he be the last. While a lot of the party goers were associates of his and Felix's, around the same age, more were older, parents of said associates that were old friends of Alexius's. That he had his own little secret that they weren't privy to made him feel superior in a way, even if that secret was a dirty text conversation.

"Let me guess. He finally texted you back," Felix said.

Dorian rolled his eyes. "You realize that when you get a girlfriend, I'm going to constantly harass you about her."

"Is Fenris your boyfriend now?"

"That is not what I meant," Dorian said haughtily. "And no. One night of fucking does not a commitment make." He wouldn't even know what to do with a boyfriend. Would Fenris want to date? After all, there was nothing wrong with going out to dinner with a coworker. If it turned out they were compatible out of bed as well as in… it might be the start of something more.

Now _that_ was a terrifying thought.

"Besides," Dorian added, his own fears compounding with the alcohol, "who wants that?"

"Who indeed?"

"Okay, you can stop now." His phone vibrated again. "I'll be in the hall, being completely anti-social for the next few minutes. Make my excuses, won't you?"

"Mm. Tell Fenris I said hello."

Dorian rolled his eyes and slipped out into the hall. He looked at the new message on his phone.

**Would you let me tie you up?**

The words shot straight to his groin. Thankfully he'd imbibed enough alcohol that he wasn't too affected by them. His thumbs hesitated over the keypad. Did he trust Fenris enough to let him do that? He thought about the night they spent together. Fenris was tender with him after their rough coupling, and he gave him fair warning for what he had planned. If he went through with this, and it turned uncomfortable, he couldn't see Fenris ignoring his distress.

**I think I'd enjoy it. And then when you have me at your mercy? What will you do?**

He looked up, glancing down the hall at the open door of the lounge, the light conversation filtering toward him. A year ago, he wouldn't have even left the party, wanting to score the approval of those there, networking, and possibly scouting a potential person to sneak away with once the opportunity presented itself. Wasn't that was he was doing now, though? Only instead sneaking away with another bored patrician, he was doing it with his phone. He stood there a moment longer, debating his options.

"Dorian."

He straightened at once, phone going behind his back, like a child caught doing something naughty. And no wonder, his father usually had that effect on him. Halward Pavus stood at the mouth of the hall, freshly arrived. Anxiety dropped like a lead weight into the pit of his stomach, and the wine he imbibed earlier made him nauseous now. A year later, and he thought he would be able to get his father's words out of his head, but they still rang so clearly in his memory.

_Get out. You are no son of mine._

For a careful second, he considered turning on his heel and walking away, back to the party, to Felix, to safety. His phone vibrated and he longed to look at the next message that Fenris sent, but he was no longer in the playful mood, his libido thoroughly doused. "Father."

Halward shifted and cleared his throat. "It's good to see you."

Fists furled, gripping his phone so tightly his hand hurt, Dorian glared. "Is it," he said flatly.

"I…" Halward sighed.

"Never mind. I already know the answer to that. Why not skip the false pleasantries, Father? There are no appearances to keep up here. Though you ought to hurry through. Don't want someone coming out and seeing you with your former son. Think of what it would do to your reputation." He spat the last word, shaking, unsure if he was angry or upset or both.

"Dorian, I came here so we could talk. I knew you would come home, and…"

Dorian folded his arms, glancing down at his phone.

**I'll show you next time I see you.**

He slid it into his pocket, distracted, then looked back up at his father. "Fine. We can talk. But not here. I won't disrespect Alexius's house by making a scene in the hallway."

Halward nodded graciously and stepped aside, giving Dorian more than enough space to pass him. Steeling himself, Dorian strode down the hall, past his father, and toward a vacant sitting room. A decanter of Alexius's favorite brandy sat on the sideboard with four glasses upside down on a tray. He turned two of them over, uncapped the crystal stopper and poured out a generous measure into both. Whatever his father had to say to him, he was fairly sure they would both need the alcohol.


	13. Chapter 13

A year ago, his life made sense. He had a position in society, he was popular, always in the news for one thing or another, he was on his way to becoming a figurehead in Tevinter, possibly even Archon himself. Then, he refused to marry. And then, his father caught him with the son of another magister. The man – and Dorian could scarcely remember his name – was the third son of a lesser politician out of some eastern city that could barely be called such. He was heading toward study at the Chantry, visiting Minrathous for the first time, and they happened to be at the same charity drive. Halward was putting in an appearance, and Dorian was obligated to go with him. He expected a boring, dry affair. What he wasn't expecting was the gorgeous, slightly scatterbrained, yet very well-built Chantry affirmed brother.

He remembered the dance, the careful touches in the right place, leaning in slightly, the quick smiles. Innocent and wide-eyed looking as the other man was, he'd played this game before. He knew the tell-tale signs, he knew what Dorian wanted. He could have walked away, and he didn't. The laundry room of the building was empty and dark, and they'd made it downstairs without anyone seeing them. A hot and heavy make out session started to turn into mutual handjobs, though Dorian would have loved his mouth, with his full, pouting lips. And then the lights came on, and it was Halward who caught them. The rest of the party was even more forced smiles and terse conversation, and when they got home, the shouting started.

But that was then. Now? Now he was on his way back to Kirkwall, head full of confusing thoughts. He and his father spoke, actually had a conversation for the first time in probably five years, instead of just the careful sniping at one another they'd perfected. Halward wasn't happy with the choices he'd made, but he was even less happy at the idea of losing his son. It was strange to sit there and talk openly and honestly instead of shouting at one another. It was painful, and not something he felt like rehashing in his own mind, but his mind had other plans for him. Fist pressed against his lips, he stared out the plane's window, brow furrowed.

_"Come home and we'll work this out."_

_"I can't. I have a job."_

_"You can work here, Dorian. Anything you want. We'll put you into any field and you'll excel."_

His father was nearly begging him to stay, and he almost agreed. To return to his life, even if he would have to fight scandal and rumor for months after, it was what he wanted, wasn't it? But he was starting to make his own friends in Kirkwall. He found a job with little help. To be placed into a profession, it would feel ill-gotten. Not a true success of his own. And he was starting to like Kirkwall – if not the weather and the smell of the city, but the people in it. And being perfectly honest with himself, he missed Fenris. It was absurd to think about it. An initial physical attraction, one night of very enjoyable sex, he should be able to give that up. But maybe… just maybe it wasn't about the sex. It was the prospect that, in the first time in his life, he was allowed to hope for more for himself on a personal level.

_"There's… a guy I'm seeing."_

_Halward's lips pursed. He was trying to be supportive, trying to come to terms with it, and Dorian in turn, was trying to be gentle._

_"We met through work, through a mutual friend. He's very sweet."_

He left out all the details, spinning his relationship with Fenris as a casual courtship. To Halward, it must have sounded like ridiculous puppy love. And Dorian would be lying if he said he wasn't smitten with Fenris. He wanted to know more about him, and that truth eased the guilty feelings of the half-lies he was creating for his father. If Halward could make an effort, he would too.

_"Another year to see where it goes. Alexius and I came to an agreement."_

_"And this… is what you want? To model?"_

_Dorian shrugged. "I like it. It makes me feel good about myself."_

_A pause. For a moment, it seemed as if Halward would berate him. But then, he smiled. "If there is one thing your mother and I did right, it was producing a very good-looking child."_

Dorian smiled. His father reminisced a little about his own youth, how popular he was, a real ladies' man. He apologized further, stating that he forgot sometimes how young Dorian still was. In the end, they parted amicably, Dorian promising to email him when he landed, and keep him updated on the job. And on, "the charming young man" that caught his eye. He wondered if he would consider Fenris a charming young man. And how would he introduce him at functions anyway? 'Allow me to introduce the person who fucked me silly the third time we met'? Too many things to think about, too many things to sort out. And he still hadn't replied to the last text Fenris sent, not that there was anything to reply to. Fenris knew he was interested. He took out his phone and looked at his messages.

**I'll show you next time I see you.**

He thought a moment, then replied.

**I want to see you tonight.**

He stared at the screen, waiting. His flight would land soon and he would only need an hour to get back to his loft, shower and change. Then he could meet Fenris somewhere. Maybe they could even have dinner. His phone vibrated.

**Okay.**

"So frustrating," he muttered, and turned away when the woman in the next seat looked over him curiously.

**Let's get dinner. My treat.**

He sent it. Unfortunately the call to put away all electronic devices interrupted any future communication, and Dorian waited anxiously for the flight to end.

-

He planned on taking a taxi or even the bus to his apartment. However, as he descended the escalator toward the lower level and public transport, he was greeted by the last person he expected to show up. Fenris, standing against an arrivals board, hands in his pockets, looking gorgeous in his nonchalance. Surprised but pleased, Dorian approached.

"I figured I would give you a lift," Fenris said by way of greeting.

"So, going to take me up on the offer of dinner?" Dorian asked. 

"No."

 _So loquacious. So profound is he._ Dorian cleared his throat. "All right. What, then?"

"Sex." He pushed away from the board and strode away, leaving Dorian dumbstruck.

He hurried to follow, pulling his coat around himself as they stepped outside. Fenris didn't offer any further elaboration, but Dorian wanted answers.

"So you text me, say you want to tie me up, agree to another night of debauchery, and just decide to pick me up from the airport. What if I was tired?"

They crossed the street, one of the vest-clad airport workers waving them through a line of cars waiting to pick up their passengers, and stepped into the parking garage.

"But you aren't."

"And what if I wanted dinner first before this?"

"Then you would eat, and I would return later. Or not."

"Fenris, what I'm saying is that I want to go out on a _date_."

Fenris removed his keys from his pocket as they approached a small black coupe. He unlocked both doors with a press of a button and looked at him over the roof. "I know."

With an exasperated eye roll, Dorian got in, setting his bag at his feet. He pulled his seatbelt on as Fenris started the engine. "And?"

"And I don't want to."

"Look, I know that dating can sometimes screw up the sex, but I promise we'll still have amazing, mind-blowing sex."

Fenris pulled out of the garage, onto the highway. "You're kind of annoying."

Dorian scowled. "Then why bother coming to pick me up at all if you weren't interested?" He was starting to wonder if this was worth it.

"I am."

"But not in dating."

Fenris let out a quiet, disgruntled noise. "Why must you persist?"

Dorian turned to him. "Because I'd like to try. Look, I'm not sure if you're aware how backwards things are up north. I've never actually… Ah. It's been quite a while since I've had a proper date. With two men in Tevinter, it's just sex. Nothing more. And now that I'm no longer there…"

"I'm aware."

"Sorry?"

"Of how things work in the Imperium." His voice was flat.

"I didn't realize you were from-"

"Seheron. And I don't date because it doesn't end well."

"…I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Fenris said, glancing at him briefly before looking back to the road. "I don't want to talk about it."

Dorian sighed and turned away. "Well I hardly think it's fair that you're going to judge all relationships on just one."

"Two."

"Two, then."

"If it makes you feel better, after we have sex, we can order a pizza."

Dorian wondered if he was going to spend the entirety of their… whatever it was, relationship? friendship with benefits? rolling his eyes and feeling exasperated. "Fine. But I'll pay so it'll be like a real date."

Fenris sighed, but there was a hint of a smile to his lips. "As you wish."


	14. Chapter 14

"I thought you lived with Hawke."

Fenris tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. The apartment was an open floor plan, average size for the neighborhood. Dorian hadn't thoroughly explored Lowtown, preferring to stay to areas of the city where he knew he wouldn't get mugged. There had been a few close calls, people on the subway or the bus who looked like they would stab him for the buckles on his boots. He much preferred Hightown. Unfortunately it seemed that Fenris kept residence elsewhere.

"I have a room with Hawke," Fenris clarified, looking around. "Roommate's out." He sounded surprised.

Dorian looked over the kitchen, dishes overflowing in the sink, clutter on the counters. The living room wasn't in much better shape, the couch old and stained, drug paraphernalia stretched out over the coffee table which looked like-

"Is that a public mailbox on its side?"

"Yep."

"And a couple of street signs, I see."

"Is the interior decoration a problem?" Fenris shrugged. "They aren't mine. They came with the apartment."

Dorian highly doubted that. Unless of course, Fenris's roommate was into stealing public property. He wouldn't judge, however. He and Felix did some odd things in their youth, and while the array on the mailbox-cum-coffee table was inferior to his choice of intoxicants (when he chose to imbibe), it somehow seemed so very normal. He stepped over a pile of laundry, noting the large hi-def television and multiple gaming consoles, and followed Fenris into his bedroom.

The bed was smaller than the one at Hawke's, but neatly made. A dresser sat opposite, a smaller TV than the one in the living room on top. Random clutter, bits of paper and old beer bottles surrounded it. An ashtray on one of the nightstands held half a joint. Fenris scooped up a few articles of clothing and tossed them into the hamper in the corner of the room before toeing off his shoes. He grabbed the neck of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head.

"That's it then?" Dorian asked, setting his bag carefully in the corner. "We're here and now we fuck?"

Fenris smirked, unbuttoning his jeans. "Did you want to talk about our feelings?"

Dorian huffed, hands on his hips. "I suppose not."

"Then strip. And get on the bed."

"Make me."

It was a challenge that Fenris easily accepted. Crossing the room in three quick strides, he shoved Dorian back against the door. He hit the wood with an, "oomph!" and Fenris closed the gap between them, leaning up and kissing him roughly. Dorian kept his hands to his sides, though they longed to grip the back of Fenris's head. Or his waist. Or ass. 

The kiss was needy, passionate. Dorian could almost pretend that they were long lost lovers. That he was returning home after an extended absence and Fenris was excited to see him. Almost unconsciously, his hand lifted to Fenris's side. Fenris immediately grabbed his wrist and pinned it back next to Dorian's head. He pulled back with a grin.

"You're going to regret that."

"You are a control freak," Dorian noted. "Were you like this with your other boyfriends?"

"We're not dating," Fenris reminded him, slipping a thigh between Dorian's legs. He pressed upward, a quiet chuckle against his neck when Dorian thrust against him.

Conversation fell to the wayside as Fenris kissed, licked, and bit his way across Dorian's throat, marking him again. Dorian lifted his arms up and Fenris yanked the shirt from him. Though he wanted to tempt fate and try to touch Fenris again, he was much more interested in obeying, so he kept his arms up. It seemed to get more results in the way of Fenris teasing and tormenting him. A talented tongue and even more talented fingers caressed his torso, over his ticklish sides, stopping to find a nipple.

"I remember you liked that," Fenris breathed against the wet nub. He sucked hard, Dorian unable to keep his mouth shut, a moan spilling from his lips. "Maybe we should get them pierced."

Dorian entertained the thought in school. A rebellious act for sure, but he'd decided against it and instead got another couple of holes in his ears. But the thought of piercing his nipples then letting Fenris play with them was extremely fucking arousing. He thrust his hips against Fenris's leg.

"You were going to tie me down?" Dorian asked breathlessly. Thinking about being restrained only increased his arousal.

Fenris grabbed his wrists and pulled, dragging him to the bed where he tossed him down none too gently. "Do you think you're ready for that?"

"Don't know. But you promised." Dorian kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks, and unbuttoned his jeans, lifting his hips for Fenris to yank them off.

"Don't know why you bother with those," Fenris said, nodding at the black, silky underwear that Dorian wore.

"I like how they feel," Dorian replied defensively. He wriggled against the bed to prove his point, the fabric of his boxer-briefs sliding against his skin. "And this pair makes my cock look good."

"Your cock looks better out of them."

Dorian preened and pulled the elastic down, sliding them from his hips.

"Wait."

They were around his ankles, Dorian lifting his knees to his chest to get them off. He paused, and Fenris knelt on the bed, pushing his legs back further.

"Hold tight."

Dorian wrapped his arms around the backs of his knees, ankles restrained by the stretching fabric. Fenris leaned down and bit the back of his thigh. His cock, already hard from anticipation, now twitched interestedly. Dorian closed his eyes, trying not to wriggle while Fenris pressed kiss after kiss to his heated skin. He bit hard, and Dorian yelped.

"You bastard, I'll have you know that – ngh!"

Fenris licked his sac before taking it carefully into his mouth, sucking on the sensitive flesh. Thank the Maker he didn't bite _that_ , and the soft, warm sensation was more than welcome. Dorian's nails dug into thighs, gripping hard as he tried to remember to breathe.

"Fuck me," Dorian pleaded.

"Thought you wanted to be tied down," Fenris said, moving away. He pushed his jeans off his hips and stepped out of them.

"Whatever you want, just want you to hurry."

"For all your earlier protestations," Fenris said, pulling a length of rope from his bottom drawer, "you seem confident now in what you want."

Dorian's eyes widened a little at the rope. When Fenris said he was going to tie him down, he wasn't entirely sure it was going to be made a reality.

"Say no and I'll fuck you without it," Fenris said, seeing his hesitation. He started to loop the rope, creating loose knots. "Say yes and we'll go forward. You get uncomfortable, you say 'red' like a stoplight. 'Green' for go. Got it?"

Dorian nodded. "Red for stop. Green for go. Green," he said, swallowing hard, sitting up a little and offering his wrists.

"Behind your back," Fenris said.

Dorian sat up fully, stretching his shoulders before obeying. The rope slid around his wrists, and he shivered. Fenris's hands were on him, followed by his lips, warm and reassuring over his shoulders and back. He felt goose bumps on his arms spring up when Fenris kissed his neck just under his ear.

"Good," Fenris muttered. "Get on your knees on the floor."

Carefully Dorian got off the bed, kicked off his underwear, and knelt. Fenris's hand went to his hair, tugging, pulling painfully. He was eye-level now with his cock, and licked his lips in anticipation.

"Do you want it?" Fenris growled low, free hand stroking Dorian's cheek.

"Maker, _yes_ ," Dorian whispered. He looked up at Fenris, lips parted, breath coming in quiet pants. "Let me suck it."

Fenris chuckled. "Do it."

Dorian pulled against the ropes keeping his wrists restrained behind him, and licked Fenris's cock from base to tip. Fenris guided him with the hand in his hair, the other holding himself steady so Dorian could take him in. He choked a little, then forced himself to relax, to breathe through his nose, while trying to ignore his own aching erection. The room was silent save for the wet suckling noises and Fenris's labored breathing, panting quietly as he thrust his hips. Dorian tucked his lips over his teeth and moaned softly, tongue sliding over Fenris's cock. 

His jaw started to ache, but he didn't care. It felt good to be used like this. With other partners, he maintained a bit of control, even if he was being fucked. He didn't want to give that up. But with Fenris, letting him take the lead and dictate everything that was about to happen, it was arousing and freeing. He didn't have to worry about what to do, what steps in the dance to take. Fenris was in control. From above, he heard Fenris panting, a quiet grunt as he thrust forward again, and Dorian tried to swallow, a thin line of saliva sliding down his chin.

Then, Fenris pulled back, his cock glistening.

"Hold still," Fenris ordered.

He took himself in hand, stroking quickly, and Dorian knew what was going to happen a second before it did. Fenris came on his chin and chest, warm ropy semen hitting his skin. He felt Fenris twisting his fingers painfully in his hair, and winced. The pressure released, and he looked up at Fenris, come sliding off his chin.

"So," Dorian breathed, the urge to wipe his chin overwhelming, but he was still restrained. "Did you do this with the others?" He licked his lips. "Tie them up like this?"

Fenris pulled him up before shoving him onto the bed. "No."

Dorian landed with a quiet noise, tempted to roll onto his stomach and dirty Fenris's blanket. "Did they do it to you?"

"Shut up. Get on your knees, face down."

Dorian wondered if he hit a sore spot, but did as he was told, shoulders down, forehead pressed to the covers. Fingertips slid over his back and arm, almost reassuringly as Fenris retrieved a half-empty tube of lubricant and a condom from the nightstand.

"I changed my mind," Fenris said. "On your side. Arms under your thighs."

Dorian struggled, but hurried to obey, having a little difficulty getting his bound wrists around his ass. He managed though, feeling somewhat like a human pretzel, thighs against his chest. He felt extremely exposed. "Why my side?"

"Better leverage." Fenris grabbed up the pillows from the top of the bed and folded them under Dorian's hip. 

One lubricated finger drew down his cleft, and Dorian shivered. "Fuck," he breathed. "Fenris, where did you learn how to do this?" He half-expected him to say the internet.

"Ex-boyfriends," Fenris muttered, gripping his ass, spreading him, one finger pressing inside him.

Dorian felt a shiver of pleasure up his spine. He flexed his fingers, pulling at the rope. "Thought you said-"

"Yes, they did it to me. Now shut up or I'll gag you."

Dorian shut up, concentrating on the feeling of the rope around his wrists, the strain on his thighs and shoulders as Fenris pressed another finger in him. He was just getting used to the feeling of being penetrated when Fenris pulled away.

"I really hate when you do that," Dorian complained, peering over to where Fenris was pulling something from the bottom dresser drawer. "It's like a depraved pirate's treasure chest. What-"

Fenris took out a box, taking out something that vaguely resembled a blue fir tree. The triangular shaped head and flared bottom evoked a memory in him. Looking up toys on the internet, but not feeling brave enough to actually buy one, and not wanting his father to see a credit charge from a sex shop on his statement.

"It's new," Fenris assured him. "Washed, but never used. It's yours now."

"And here I didn't get you anything," Dorian joked weakly.

Fenris smirked, and reached for the lubricant.


	15. Chapter 15

It was larger, much larger, than any cock he'd taken. The ropes pulled at his wrists, and his legs ached, but those were secondary to the well-lubed toy pressing against his hole. Dorian closed his eyes tightly, trying to relax, stomach clenched. Fenris's free hand was spreading him open, and the feeling of vulnerability overwhelmed him.

"All right?" Fenris asked.

Dorian nodded quickly, then remembered. "Green," he breathed. "Maker, green."

Very, very slowly Fenris pushed it inside him.

"Ngh. I… fucking… Fenris. More. More!"

More of the warm, tingling oil was added for a slick glide, and Fenris pushed forward, Dorian's hips jerking. His erection ached. He wanted to be touched. He wanted to be fucked. But the slow torture was better than anything he felt before.

"Almost in," Fenris assured him. "Relax." He squeezed his ass gently.

Dorian took a breath, wriggling a little against the blanket. Fenris's soothing touch and voice both calmed any anxiety he felt, and aroused him. When he thought about being tied down, his mind immediately jumped to whips and riding crops and paddles. While he liked the bit of pain Fenris gave him so far – pulling his hair, biting him, especially his nipples – he'd been intimidated by the thought of doing more. This? This was exquisite torture in its simplicity.

"It's in."

He felt incredibly full, squeezing tightly around it. "I like that," he breathed. "Maker, that's nice."

Fenris twisted it, and Dorian jerked his hips, trying to grind down on it. "Easy," Fenris muttered. "Hm."

"Hn?" Dorian asked, sweating slightly now, looking back at him.

Fenris smirked. "Stay put."

"Fenris!"

Dorian watched him leave the bed, and for a second he thought he was going to return to the dresser to get something else. He plucked Dorian's jeans from the floor and pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?" His arms were starting to ache, his cock was hard, the ropes were pulling at his wrists, and the plug in his ass made him feel so deliciously full.

Fenris dialed the phone, one hand snaking down his body to stroke his cock. "Mm. Yes, I'd like to place an order for delivery."

" _Fenris!_ " Dorian hissed.

He couldn't believe him. Leaving him there, alone on the bed, nearly out of his mind with want, and he ordering a fucking pizza! Fenris inquired about toppings, stroking himself casually, while Dorian wriggled, trying to sit up. This only served to push the plug deeper, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning when it brushed his prostate. He pulled his arms back behind him and placed his feet on the floor. With leverage now, he began trying to fuck himself on the plug.

"No, that'll be all," Fenris managed, his voice only slightly shaking as he watched Dorian bouncing on the mattress, which squeaked quietly in protestation. He gave the address, then hung up before holding the phone up to Dorian.

"Wait, what are you-"

The camera clicked, and Fenris smirked. "Hope that doesn't link directly to your social network accounts."

It didn't. Dorian knew better. And, at the very least, it was his phone, not Fenris's. But the thought of Fenris having naked pictures him, tied up and so very needy, possibly getting off to it? Oh yes. Yes, he definitely liked the idea. He wriggled again.

"Fuck me before they get here. _Please,_ " he begged.

"Only because I like hearing you beg," Fenris said, tossing the phone on the bed before taking Dorian by the shoulders.

Dorian slid back, unrestrained in his moans as he clenched down on the plug. Fenris straddled his waist, pressing his cock against Dorian's own neglected one. He took them both in hand and stroked, leaning down to kiss him deeply. Dorian's tongue met his at once and he pulled at his bindings, the rope chafing his wrists. Fenris carefully lowered him to the bed, onto his side. Fenris pulled him to the edge of the bed, pillows under him, and paused only briefly so he could slide a condom over his erection. Dorian let out a cry when Fenris removed the plug, the abrupt sensation of loss making him quiver.

"Easy," Fenris soothed, and pressed inside slowly.

Powerless to move, the position rendering it impossible to even thrust back, Dorian was completely at Fenris's mercy. Thankfully it seemed that Fenris was in a merciful mood, and didn't tease him anymore, thrusting with quick, measured strokes.

"Fenris," Dorian muttered, pressing his face to the blanket. " _Maker_ , Fenris, please. Please." He wasn't even sure what he was asking for, until Fenris's hand found his, and he gripped tightly.

He fell silent, listening to Fenris's quiet breaths, and felt when he came, hips jerking against his backside. A warm, lubricated hand covered his cock, stroking him fast, thumb rubbing over the sensitive tip. He came fast, eyes still closed, still clinging to Fenris's other hand. The aches in his muscles, the rope burns on his wrist, his ass wonderfully sore, Dorian felt like a pile of wobbling jelly. The ropes loosened, sliding over his skin, and he purred as Fenris started to massage his arms.

"You don't have to," he said tiredly, opening his eyes to look at Fenris.

"Yes, I do," Fenris said. He winced, pulling the condom from his cock, tied it off and threw it in the trash before returning to him. "On your back. Stretch out."

Dorian moved up the bed, scratching idly at the drying come on his chest and chin. He could use a shower, and Fenris's blanket had likely seen better days. But now Fenris was straddling his waist, leaning down, and carefully massaging his arms and wrists. Dorian relaxed, eyes closing slowly. He drifted pleasantly, and woke when Fenris's lips pressed against his. He returned the kiss, which was slow and sweet and completely opposite to how they fucked. Dorian loved it.

A knock on the door forced them apart. Fenris kissed his forehead tenderly and left the bed, pulling his jeans on as he went. Dorian took a minute for himself, just lying in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. He was spent, exhausted and sore in the best way possible. Stretching, he let his hands fall to the blanket, knocking his phone, and picked it up to look at the picture Fenris snapped. He was bruised and dirty, arms tied behind his back, and he could just see the bright blue of the plug against the black blanket. His lips were swollen, and his hair tousled. He was a mess. But he looked hot.

He stood, sore and a little wobbly, and limped into the next room. Fenris was setting the pizza on the table before pulling paper plates from the cabinet. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Dorian emerge.

"Was going to bring you a slice."

"Just looking for the bathroom," Dorian said, gesturing to the mess on himself.

"Through there," Fenris nodded. "On the right. Left is-"

The door opened and an elf slipped inside, bobbing his head slightly to the music playing through his earbuds. He pulled off a woolen ski hat, revealing a bald pate with a strange design tattooed on it. He dropped his bag on the floor before looking up, plucking the earbuds from his ears, and stared at Dorian with a curious expression.

"Solas, this is Dorian. Dorian, roommate."

Dorian wondered exactly how red he turned, and was very thankful for his tanned complexion as he blushed. "Nice to meet you."

"You have a little something," Solas said, gesturing to his own chin. "Supposed to be good for the hair, I think. Is that pizza?" He looked at Fenris, without a single trace of embarrassment in his tone or stature.

Fenris got out another plate as Dorian quickly went to the bathroom. As he cleaned himself off, he wondered if Fenris often brought home one night stands that it was no longer a big deal for Solas. Or maybe he was just that laid back. He hoped it was the latter. He also didn't like the irrational flare of jealousy he felt when he thought that Fenris might have had a slew of lovers. Whatever Fenris did in his past wasn't his business after all, just like he wasn't going to go dragging up his own past. He certainly wasn't going to tell him about his father –

"Shit."

He was supposed to email his father when he got in. Well, he hadn't lost too much time. He would just explain that Fenris surprised him, and he'd forgotten. It was the truth, after a fashion. He cleaned himself up, took a breath, then strode confidently back through the living room. He would walk to Fenris's bedroom, dress, and then come out for food, and everything would be normal. The TV was on now, Solas sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, pizza in hand. Fenris was absent from the room.

"Good butt," Solas remarked idly.

Dorian smirked, turning back briefly to look at Solas. "Of course it is."

"Do you smoke?"

"…Occasionally." What he wanted to say was, 'Can we have this conversation when I'm not currently showing off said butt.'

"You should consider coming around more often. You do wonders for his countenance."

"Thank you." And Dorian left him to it, feeling rather good about himself. Though he didn't know how well Solas knew Fenris, but just to hear him say that, it was nice.

He stepped into Fenris's room, shutting the door behind him. Fenris tossed him his underwear which he caught one-handed against his chest before tugging them on.

"That may have been the single most awkward moment of my life," Dorian said, crossing to the bed.

The blanket was balled up and tossed in a corner, and Fenris was sitting cross legged against the headboard, holding two plates. He nodded to the spot next to him. "He doesn't care. Sometimes he forgets to put clothing on."

"Seriously?" Dorian asked in disbelief, crossing to the bed. He crawled into it, settling against the headboard, happily accepting the slice of pizza.

"He's… ah. Strange. But he respects my space and privacy and I never have to hound him for bills or rent." Fenris flicked on the TV, putting on a show at random, the volume low so they could still talk.

"How did you meet?"

"Internet. He was offering a room when his old roommate left. He smokes too much weed and eats all my food, but he always pays me back."

Dorian, who never had a roommate, nor ever had to deal with roommate troubles, thought it sounded rather ideal. "And you keep a room at Hawke's because…?"

"It's convenient," Fenris said, swallowing a bite. He sighed. "What is this? Are you asking me because you want to know, or-"

"I really want to know," Dorian said, looking at him. "I've given it some thought. I know you don't date, and I can't say I've had much experience in it either. But I think we should give it a try, don't you? The worst that could happen is that we find out we don't like each other outside of bed, and go back to fucking on occasion if you want. No drama," he added, acknowledging Hawke's fraternization policy.

Fenris stayed silent, staring at the TV while he ate, a frown creasing his brow. Dorian didn't press, and reached over him for the remote, changing the channel until he found a popular dark drama, and turned the volume up. He could wait for Fenris's answer.


	16. Chapter 16

A few days passed, Dorian keeping in touch with his father through email. It was easier to communicate this way, no interrupting one another, no shouting. His father kept him informed as to what was happening in the Imperium regarding the elections, and the goings-on in the estate. He didn't, however, speak much about Dorian's mother, except to inform Dorian as to her health. Dorian in turn told his father about his loft, Kirkwall in general, and what it was like to model. He mentioned Fenris once or twice, but kept his descriptions vague. After all, Fenris hadn't given him an answer yet on whether or not he wanted to actually move things forward, so he wasn't quite sure what to call him.

The marks on his wrists faded, but the bruises on his neck and chest were another story. Merrill was a master with makeup though, and any topless shoots continued as planned. Bethany showed up again to congratulate him on the successful cologne ad that made it into "Hightown's Hottest," which was a magazine that listed Thedas's most eligible bachelors. The Who's Who of the Free Marches specifically, and Dorian amused himself by flipping through a copy just to see. He, of course, sent a dozen of the magazines to Alexius and Felix, signing his ad with a loopy autograph and a note telling them that they would certainly be worth millions one day.

"Thank you for the toilet paper," Felix said, when Dorian called him one afternoon after getting out of the shower.

"Oh haha," Dorian scoffed. "You didn't return my last text. You were supposed to get the results back from the doctor. What did they say?"

Silence on the other end, and Dorian sat up straighter in bed. The rain outside pelted the window, cold and miserable. Though it was still early, it was nearly pitch black, aside from the occasional streaks of lightning.

"Felix?"

"It's… they don't know," Felix finally said, sighing. "I'm on three different medications for now and I go in for a follow up tomorrow. I didn't want to say anything until I knew for sure."

Dorian leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, one hand in his hair, twisting the slightly damp locks. "And did you tell your father?"

"I'm going to tonight. I think I'll ask him to come with me tomorrow. I just don't want to worry him."

Dorian let out a mirthless laugh. "Too late for that. You should have been to a doctor ages ago." He sighed. He shouldn't be admonishing him now. Not when Felix needed his support. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Whatever it is, they'll catch it, and get you the right treatment, and you'll be fine."

"You said that."

"Damn it, Felix, why are you so calm about this?" He tugged on a strand of hair, irritated.

"Because there's nothing I can do about it right now. I promise you I'll let you know what they find."

"Get a second opinion if they don't find anything. You're coughing up blood. That's not 'nothing'. There is 'something'."

"I will. Tell me about what's going on with you."

Dorian sighed again. Felix wasn't going to talk about his illness, and while Dorian was worried, he didn't want to press and upset him. They rarely ever fought, and when they did, it was always painful and frustrating, and he never slept well. Felix was the closest thing to a brother he would ever have, after all.

"Aside from the ad, we're preparing for a fashion show in Denerim. Bethany assures me that it's going to be brutal. Fast paced and ruthless."

"Ferelden?"

"I know, I know," Dorian said, finally lying back again. He pulled his laptop onto his stomach and opened one of his many social networking sites. He'd added nearly everyone he met from work, except for Fenris, who didn't seem to have an account anywhere. "Maybe we're doing an all-fur line?"

"The activists will love that."

Dorian laughed. "Maybe you'll see me on the news, covered in red paint."

"You would make it look good."

"Was that ever in question?" Dorian asked, fiddling with profile now. He changed the photo to a recent one of himself in a tailored woolen coat with golden thread. The light caught the thread just right, and it looked like he was sparkling just a little.

"I think my father was wrong. I think modeling suits you just fine. But pretty soon Kirkwall won't be big enough for your bloody ego." Felix laughed, then pulled the phone away to cough.

Dorian's smile faltered. "I should let you go rest. If I can get tickets for the show, will you come?"

"I'll have to ask Father, but I don't see why not. It's always good to gauge the political situation outside of the Imperium. Let me know."

"I will. And _rest_ , Felix. Put away the paperwork for now, promise?"

He could hear Felix fidgeting on the other side of the line. "I should go tell Father. I just don't want to fall behind."

"I'm sure being two weeks ahead instead of three will put a serious damper on your career." Dorian was teasing, but it was somewhat true. Felix, for as much as he complained about it, had always been the type to ask for more homework in school. He was always undertaking new projects, and often hated sitting still. Dorian, on the other hand, was the very definition of 'the idle rich.'

"I'll likely text you later on how it goes. I'll be lucky if Father lets me out of the house anytime soon. Mother hen."

Dorian bit his tongue. He knew Felix meant well, but it hurt sometimes to hear Felix talk about Alexius in such a way. While he could see where the fussing would get annoying, he thought he'd prefer it to Halward's "pick yourself up and stop whining" method of parenting. Of course, it _did_ make him stronger and more confident, but he felt like he was missing out on a vital part of that father-son dynamic.

"I'll be looking forward to it," Dorian said. "And ask about Denerim. I'll let you know when I get more information." He paused. "It'll be okay." Though he wasn't sure if he was reassuring Felix or himself. If it was something serious and… No. He refused to entertain the thought.

"I know. I'll talk to you later."

They said their goodbyes and he contemplated his phone for a minute. It vibrated, and he checked the message, unable to help himself from smiling when he saw it was from Fenris.

**Do you want to go on a date?**

Maker, bless him, he was trying. Dorian laughed and paused before texting back.

**Got some bad news. Not really in the mood to go out anywhere.**

He was still reeling from the news of there being _no_ news about Felix. Part of him simply wanted to lie in bed and contemplate his own mortality or something equally morbid. Besides, it was still raining quite hard and it matched his mood now. His phone vibrated again.

**I'll come over and bring food.**

Dorian notice this did not end in a question, and thought about what it would be like to have someone here. Out of respect for Alexius and his generosity, he avoided having guests over. Though he wasn't sure he could consider one time trysts as proper guests. Fenris was different though. He was a coworker. A friend of sorts. And it would be nice to have the company and the distraction, if only so he didn't become engulfed in pool of his own melancholy.

**I like bad, greasy takeout.**

He added his address in case Fenris didn't already have it, and lay back in bed to wait, listening to the sounds of the rain.


	17. Chapter 17

The best thing about having sex first and dating later was that you didn't have to feel awkward about opening the door shirtless. Dorian, who didn't have a shoot that day and spent most of it lounging and catching up with Felix, wore nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms when he answered the knock. Fenris, soaked from the rain, carried two bags from a local takeout, and Dorian was surprised to find how good it felt to see him. Though the anxiety that took up residence in his chest was still there, it lessened somewhat, and he shocked both of them by leaning down and greeting Fenris with a kiss.

"How domestic of you," Fenris said, but Dorian saw the little smile as he closed the door.

He took the bags from Fenris and sorted the containers on the counter. "Bathroom's through there," he said, "if you want to dry off."

The fingertips along the small of his back as Fenris passed were subtle, but extremely welcome. Dorian smiled despite himself, and hoped this was normal. He thought he could get used to it, having someone in his space without the need to have rushed sex and get it over with before you were caught. The other day when they watched television and ate pizza, speaking very little, it was comfortable. Though he hated to compare Fenris to Felix yet again, it was almost like that, with the one very obvious difference. Not that he was going to rush forth and tell Fenris all his secrets, but the idea of having someone he _could_ eventually share that with was exhilarating.

Lost in thought, he missed Fenris's return, and jumped slightly at the warm hands around his waist, the press of bare skin against his own. Fenris pressed tiny kisses down his spine, fingers scratching along his stomach, reaching up to tweak his nipples. Dorian shoved him back gently, laughing.

"Stop that. You'll get me started. This is supposed to be a date."

"I suppose it is."

They took plates to the bed, Dorian moving his laptop down so they could sit. "Sorry, I don't have a TV."

Fenris shrugged. "I'm not here for the entertainment. You said you got some bad news."

The unspoken, 'Do you want to talk about it?' hung in the air. Dorian hesitated, forkful of noodles halfway to his lips. He took a bite and swallowed, thinking if he should tell him or if he should keep the information secret. Either way, it didn't appear that Fenris would press him.

"My best friend is sick."

Fenris's brow furrowed, but he said nothing, frowning down at his plate.

And then Dorian couldn't stop talking, the worry of the last few weeks pouring out of him like a broken, leaky faucet. "His mother died a long time ago of some wasting illness, so his father's always been careful of his health. And Felix – my friend – has had a horrible cough for a long time now. He was coughing up blood when I saw him, and the doctors haven't been able to pinpoint exactly what's wrong with him. He goes to see a specialist tomorrow, and he hasn't even told his father yet. And I'm just worried that they won't find anything. Or worse, that they will and it'll be something horrible and incurable and I'll have to watch my best friend slowly die while I sit here in this apartment, unable to do a damn thing about it!"

He took a breath, realizing he was shaking a little. Fenris covered his hand with his own, easing the fork from his grip, and moved both plates out of the way before drawing him into a hug. It was rather uncharacteristic of Fenris. Or so he thought. Was it, though? Fenris might have seemed stand-offish. He was definitely quiet, but after each time they had sex, he was always so careful with him. While Fenris didn't strike him as the type of person who would happily hold hands in public – and truth be told, neither was Dorian – behind closed doors, he was strangely affectionate.

And it calmed him down, being held in a way, Fenris's hand making slow circles on his back. Regretfully he pulled back after a while and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"For? I asked."

Dorian pulled their plates back and started to eat slowly, thinking. "I'm not used to the… compassion."

"Neither am I. But it doesn't mean I regret giving it," Fenris said graciously. "I… hm. I like you."

Dorian laughed. "Oh, good! I was afraid you were only here because you hated me."

"I wouldn't make that mistake again."

And once more, unspoken words hung between them. Dorian could see it in his face. Did Fenris have someone in his past – perhaps one of his exes – he stayed with despite not enjoying himself?

"Your friend," Fenris said again, "if he dies, it will be the worst thing you will ever feel."

Dorian's surprised laugh was mirthless this time, and he had an immediate desire to punch Fenris in the face.

"But the hurt lessens with time. And that is the best comfort I'm in the position to offer."

It was pragmatic. There was no false comfort. No, 'He'll be at the Maker's side' or 'He won't be in any pain anymore' he heard when Felix's mother died. Fenris did not deal in false platitudes. And Dorian only wished he'd been able to say something half as eloquent and comforting.

"Who did you lose?" Dorian asked carefully.

"My mother. I was young. Then my sister and I were in and out of foster care. When I was released, I… fell into a bad situation."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Fenris shook his head. "It was a long time ago. If you want, I can stay with you until tomorrow while you wait for your friend's diagnosis."

"You don't have anything better to do?"

"Not particularly. A fitting in the evening."

"Hm. I'm there at eight for a shoot and to practice the walk."

Fenris snorted.

"What?" Dorian asked, starting to eat again.

Fenris shook his head. "I did runway two years ago. I will never do that again."

"I'm sure you look gorgeous on it. Why did you stop?"

"One of my exes liked how I looked doing it."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "You realize that doesn't explain anything. And in fact, it makes it all the more confusing."

"I like being mysterious." But there was a quirk of the lips again.

"Fine, fine, keep your secrets," Dorian said lightly.

Fenris gestured to his laptop and Dorian nodded. Though it was often strange to let someone else use his computer, it wasn't as if he had anything to hide. Except the fact that he had Fenris's portfolio page bookmarked. And perhaps saved a few of the photos. Thankfully though, Fenris seemed not to be going for either slightly embarrassing thing, and pulled up a video site, full screened it, and hit play. Dorian watched, interested.

It was a professional show, Dorian could tell as much. He had always been interested in fashion and attended quite a few shows both in Tevinter and Antiva. But this one seemed a little more subdued. The announcer had a thick, Starkhaven accent. It was one of Hawke's productions, he realized, as he saw the man in question in the audience, looking pleased, hand entwined with Anders', who sat next to him. The music was slightly ridiculous, a drum beat that pulsed in time with the lights. And then he saw Fenris walk out.

His face was perfect, eyes and chin level, lips very slightly parted, dressed in a gorgeous black suit. He strode to the end of the runway, removed the jacket, and in one easy move it was slung over his shoulder. Several quick poses to face the multiple cameras, then he was walking back. Dorian saw at once why someone would enjoy a private show of that.

"There are a few others," Fenris said, closing the video. "But it became… uncomfortable. Too many foul memories."

Dorian nodded, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Well, while I think you look gorgeous doing it, I won't ever ask you for a show. I'm determined to be better than either of your ex-boyfriends. And if we ever break up, you can compare all your future ones to me and think, 'Oh I wish he was more like Dorian. Dorian was perfect. Why did we break up again?'"

Fenris stared at him, then rolled his eyes, making a disgruntled sort of noise. Dorian grinned and took their empty plates to the sink. When he returned, Fenris was reclining, laptop pulled close. Dorian dropped into bed next to him, sliding a leg over his, and was pleased when Fenris wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"You have my portfolio bookmarked."

"While we're on the subject of terribly embarrassing things, I even have a few pictures of you saved. So before you go looking through my files, you should know that."

"What about the ones of you in a corset and stockings?"

"What? I've never- Oh. Haha." Dorian paused. "Would you want me in a corset and stockings?"

Fenris laughed. "Perhaps not."

Fenris pulled up a movie site, logged in with his own credentials, and chose a movie. Some type of horror film, Dorian guessed by the box cover art. He wondered what other tastes they had in common. Felix was never one for the macabre, but Dorian was always fascinated by it, and enjoyed the midnight horror shows around All Soul's Day.

"I like the things we do, though," Dorian said, wrapping an arm around his stomach, kissing his side. "The ropes. And the toys."

"…Good."

"Would you ever want me to do that to you?"

Fenris tensed. "No."

Dorian kissed him again apologetically. "Then we won't. It's fine. But I would like to be on top once or twice. No ropes or anything. I enjoy it. If that's all right?" He glanced up at him.

"Hm." Fenris exhaled forcibly. "Perhaps… in time. It's been…"

"I understand. But you like it, right? Otherwise you wouldn't have that drawer full of toys."

Fenris chuckled, Dorian liking the way it sounded, ear pressed to Fenris's chest.

"Yes. But doing it to myself and having someone else do it…"

"I understand. And you know… Fenris, you can trust me. Whatever they did to hurt you? I wouldn't want to do that. I want this to work." He looked at him imploringly, Fenris's eyes fixed firmly on the screen. With a sigh, he settled back down.

A minute or so passed, the screen flickering with characters, exposition of an ancient curse. Dorian felt Fenris kiss the top of his head.

"I do, too."

Dorian smiled.


	18. Chapter 18

Dorian sat quietly as Fenris drove them to the studio. He remained silent as they walked through the building and into the elevator, and spoke only when the doors shut.

"But what even is a 'sickness of the lungs'? It's so horribly vague!"

He spent the better part of the afternoon talking to Felix while Fenris sat next to him, gently rubbing his back to keep him calm. He spoke to Alexius as well, asking if he should come home to help, if they needed him. Alexius promised him they were fine, that he was forcing Felix to rest and they had the best doctors on the case. It ended with Fenris holding him for a few minutes while he calmed down.

Fenris reached out and took his hand. "He's getting treatment."

Dorian looked over at him, forcing a smile. "You're very good at this whole 'boyfriend' thing."

"I am trying."

"Is there anything I can do for you? You seem…"

"Hm?"

"Perhaps it's just in your nature to be quiet and not complain. I find I'm rather the opposite." Dorian tugged him close. "I'm glad you don't mind me touching you anymore." He drew the backs of his fingertips across Fenris's cheek and leaned down to kiss him.

The elevator doors opened, and an amused voice interrupted them. "Oh good, you're here."

Fenris sighed and turned around. "Anders."

Anders stood, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, carrying a backpack. He looked at Fenris. "Bethany wants you for your fitting."

"That is, after all, why I am here," Fenris said sarcastically. He squeezed Dorian's hand, catching the elevator doors before they shut, and brushed past Anders.

"I need to get going as well. Merrill wants to size me up for the runway," Dorian said, moving to follow.

"Actually," Anders said, frowning, "Hawke wanted me to talk to you." He gestured back into the elevator.

Dorian frowned and stepped back, moving aside so Anders could slip in. He watched Anders hit the lobby floor button and wondered what was up. As far as he knew, Anders wasn't in the business, and if he wanted to just pass a simple message, he would have. Or Hawke could've texted him. A 'talk' sounded bad.

"It's actually about Fenris," Anders said, as they rode the elevator down to the bottom floor.

"Oh? I was under the impression that Hawke's policy about coworkers dating-"

"It's not that. He doesn't care if you get involved, just so long as-"

"No drama," Dorian finished.

Anders smiled tiredly at him. "Right. There have been issues in the past, but he understands we're working with adults here, and trusts everyone to handle their own affairs."

"…Except me, I suppose?" Dorian asked, raising an eyebrow. Why couldn't Hawke have spoken to him about this himself?

"Don't. Hawke's a good man. And trust me, you want to have this conversation with me and not him. For all his brilliance in business, Hawke can be tactless when it comes to the personal side of things." Anders led the way outside and to the next door's coffee shop.

Dorian was tempted to order the most expensive thing on the menu just to show his displeasure with his boss sending his boyfriend to do his dirty work. However, he settled on something he knew he would enjoy instead, and Anders picked up the tab. They found a quiet table in the corner, and Dorian spoke first.

"So this is what? His way of telling me to stay away from Fenris? Or a threat? If I hurt him, Hawke will break my arms." He bristled. It was unprofessional, he thought.

Anders sighed. "I know this is weird. But Hawke's relationship with Fenris is weird, and yes, he probably would have said something like that, which is why I'm here instead. They're like brothers. And Hawke is extremely protective of his friends and family, but once he lets you in, it's… very nice. But he's been burned in the past, and that's where Fenris comes into it."

Dorian sipped his coffee quietly, wondering how much of this conversation would betray Fenris's confidence. "I am rather intent on starting, and hopefully continuing a relationship with Fenris for a very long time. If there's a secret in his past, anything about his exes, I don't want to know it. He can tell me himself if he wants to."

"Fair enough, and I agree with you. But I do need to tell you a few things, and ah… explain…" He shifted a bit, taking a sip of coffee before clearing his throat. "Hawke's possessiveness over Fenris. He introduced Fenris to his last ex, Sebastian. Things escalated rather quickly. Police were involved…"

"Maker's breath, seriously?" Despite his earlier desire not to pry into Fenris's past, Dorian found himself curious.

"Mm. And before Sebastian, Fenris was involved with… Well. The fact that you're from Tevinter-"

"I had noticed that was a point of contention. He doesn't like when I speak the language." He would speak it at home, with his father or Alexius. However, the world was moving in the general direction of the more common tongue. Which he supposed made sense from a business point of view. Since he and Felix were younger, however, they always preferred testing out the trade language on one another. Learning the dirty words was one of the more amusing highlights of their childhood.

"You could say that his first bad breakup… sort of conditioned him for the second," Anders said carefully. 

Dorian held up a hand. "Don't say anymore."

Anders nodded. "I understand. Since then, though, Fenris has been fairly closed off. The fact that he's comfortable enough with you to kiss you in public…"

Dorian smirked, sitting up a bit straighter. "Well it took a little doing, but I believe we're moving forward."

"I just don't want to see anyone get hurt."

"Even Fenris?" Dorian asked. "The way he acts toward you…"

"Oh that," Anders said, waving his hand. "Fenris and I will never get along."

"Seems a bit of an awkward situation to be in, considering you're marrying his best friend." He wondered if Fenris and Felix would get along. Not that he was entertaining the idea of marrying Fenris. However, the prospect of being able to get married someday? He found he definitely wanted that. But he also wanted to be able to see it happen in his homeland.

"No, we've reached a sort of quiet, mutual animosity."

"You enjoy poking at him? I may need to prevent you from doing that in future," Dorian said carefully.

Anders laughed. "No. It's not that. I… hm. Without betraying doctor-patient confidentiality, I really believe he would benefit from talking to someone, and we've been butting heads for a long time about it."

"Wouldn't we all?" The subject of 'therapy' came up when he and his father had their last fight. Though he was fairly sure his father and Anders had completely different definitions of the word.

"You jest, but talking to someone is the best way to draw poison from the wound, so to speak. I don't want to keep you any longer, but I just wanted you to know…"

"Hm?"

"Fenris seems happier than he has in a while. I think you do that for him. Whatever it is you do," Anders added, his tone clearly stating that he did not want to know what they got up to.

"He… makes me happy as well." The confession seemed to almost be a silly one, but Dorian was pleased to hear the truth in his own words.

Anders smiled, and Dorian thought he looked better for it. He would never say as much, lest he cause offense. Or anger Hawke. They stood up and Dorian thanked him for the coffee before heading back to the studio. He felt lighter than he had earlier, though the results of Felix's tests still weighed in his mind. Intensely curious as to what happened with Fenris's mysterious boyfriend 'Sebastian', he wondered how to bring it up. Or even if he should. There would be reports online if the police were involved, and he had to talk himself out of looking it up on his phone on the elevator ride up.

_Respect his privacy,_ he thought, tossing his coffee cup in the trash on the way through reception. He waved to Isabela and headed in to find Merrill, deciding to invite Fenris back to his apartment again tonight. If nothing else, the nights spent sleeping together were actually quite pleasant.


	19. Chapter 19

The next few weeks were a bit of a high speed tornado for Dorian. He hadn't realized exactly how much work went into a runway fashion show, and it was fascinating to see it from this point of view. While work kept him busy, sometimes up to sixteen or seventeen hours a day, he reveled in his one day off a week to catch up on the important things. Which often involved sleeping very late, answering all his emails, having at least an hour of conversation with Felix, and spending the afternoon and evening with Fenris.

The domesticity of staying either at Fenris's apartment or having him stay over at the loft was exciting in a completely different way. They kept clothing and toothbrushes at one another's places, and deciding whose place to retire to at the end of the day was often a matter of what they had planned. Fenris kept an array of toys and fun things at his apartment, though Dorian was slightly hesitant to have sex there when his roommate was home. Fenris – and indeed Solas – assured him it was fine. And if he became too loud when Fenris fucked him, Solas merely turned up the volume on the TV.

His loft was reserved for the quieter moments, dinner and curling up after with a movie on his laptop. Perhaps a night of slow, sweet fucking. Dorian hesitated to call it, 'making love' thinking perhaps it was a little too soon to bring the 'L' word into their relationship. He almost couldn't help it. Being denied romantic affection for so long due to his sexuality, it was as if the flood gates had opened. Fenris didn't seem to mind, though on occasion he would become quiet if Dorian touched him too much. Dorian wondered yet again what happened to cause this, if Sebastian, whoever he was, caused Fenris's aversion to touch. Or if it was the Tevinter ex.

Curiosity got the better of him one night as they were lounging in his bed, some random show on the laptop. He had his head nestled close to Fenris's shoulder, fingers gently playing over the elastic of his pajama bottoms. On occasion, he would 'accidentally' slip and brush his prick through the cloth, Fenris making amused noises when it happened. He propped himself up, fist pressed against his temple, and looked down. 

Fenris glanced up. "Hm?"

He wasn't sure how to approach the subject. "I was thinking about a few things."

Fenris stretched, then paused the show, setting the laptop aside. "Hm?" He made the same quasi-interested noise.

"Anders. He… well, I suppose 'warn' is both the correct word and one that might be a little strong for the situation. He warned me to be careful with you."

Fenris rolled his eyes. "The good doctor means well but often sticks his nose where it's not wanted. The concern is unwarranted." He paused, frowning. "Did he upset you?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Dorian hastened to clarify. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause strained relations between Fenris and the others. "But it's nice of you to worry about me."

"Hmph. It's a boyfriend thing, I guess."

Dorian leaned down and kissed him, pleased when Fenris returned it in earnest. He almost forgot what he wanted to bring up, Fenris's tongue against his very distracting. Fingers sank into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp, and he moaned softly, thrusting gently against Fenris's hip.

"Mm, stop. Stop," Dorian protested, pulling back. "I wanted to talk."

"We are talking," Fenris said, palm against Dorian's chest.

Dorian took his hand, holding it in place. Fenris often went for his nipples first, usually causing all coherent thoughts to flee. If that happened, the conversation would be forgotten and while the ensuing sex would likely be fantastic, he really wanted to know the answer.

"He mentioned Sebastian."

Fenris's face immediately darkened, eyes dangerously narrowed. "We are not talking about Sebastian."

"Right." Dorian sighed and lay back, crossing his arms underneath his head. "Sorry."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. "Hawke introduced me to him. Things went badly. Hawke felt guilty. There was a fight and Hawke broke his jaw. Anything else is just sordid details."

Dorian looked over at him. "Whatever he did to you… I'm sorry. You don't deserve that."

Fenris shrugged. "Maybe I did. Doesn't matter."

"And… the other one? The one from Tevinter?"

Fenris shook his head. "No. I'm not talking about that." He pushed himself up and out of bed.

Dorian sat up quickly. "Fenris-"

"Going to piss."

Well at least he wasn't leaving. Dorian watched him cross the room and enter the tiny bathroom. The light clicked on and the door shut halfway. He pulled his knees up, running a hand through his hair. Maybe it was stupid to bring it up. He just wanted Fenris to trust him, to get him to open up more. But maybe Fenris didn't need that. Dorian worried if he, in turn, leaned on Fenris too much. He talked a lot about Felix, how concerned he was. Was he being too clingy? The toilet flushed and Dorian moved the laptop to the floor, pulling the covers up.

"Get the lights?" Dorian asked.

"No," Fenris said. "I want to fuck."

"…One bad conversation about ex-boyfriends and you're ready to go, huh?"

Fenris crawled into bed over top of him and kissed him hard, fingers twisting in his hair, holding him down. Dorian automatically gripped the sheets, keeping his hands away from Fenris. Though Fenris conceded to letting him touch, he thought perhaps he should apologize for pushing the subject. Fenris seemed happy with his restraint, and rewarded him by sharply twisting a nipple.

"AH! Maker's sake, Fenris," he whined, hips gyrating, fully hard now.

"Mm. If not piercings, then clamps."

Dorian let out a shuddering breath. The idea of Fenris tying him up, clamping his nipples… "With a chain. And you could pull on them. Hard."

Fenris grinned and ducked his head to follow up with a harsh bite. Dorian arched into it, the sensation going straight to his groin. Fenris knew how to tease him, when to give him more. Though they'd hardly been together long, Fenris just seemed to understand what he needed. He kissed down the center line of his chest, his stomach, fingers curling at the waistband of his pajamas and Dorian lifted his hips. Fenris didn't bother teasing anymore, lips tucked over his teeth as he descended on his cock, all warm and wet heat. Though he was used to Fenris keeping him on the edge and then pulling away, it still frustrated him every time he did it. Especially now. He looked down, and Fenris smirked up at him.

"Lube."

Dorian reached over to the overturned milk crate he used as a nightstand and grabbed the half-empty tube, then obediently pulled his knees to his chest in anticipation. Fenris chuckled.

"What? What's so funny?"

"You."

Dorian was about to respond when Fenris coated his fingers, then reached down underneath himself.

"Maker's breath, that's just not fair," Dorian said. "Let me…" He reached up for Fenris's cock, and stroked him slowly when Fenris nodded. "On top?"

"Mmhm."

Dorian watched Fenris stretch himself, thrusting back on his own fingers, little breathy sounds escaping his lips. He reached down to the floor, fumbling through a small box and pulled a condom from the pile. Excited, slightly nervous, he tore the wrapper and slid it over his own waiting erection. He poured a generous amount of lubricant over the latex and grinned.

"You're enjoying this too much," Fenris whispered, leaning forward to kiss him.

"Mm. It's been… Mm, come here." Dorian held him down for another kiss. "Been awhile since I've had it this way."

"You've been good," Fenris said simply.

"Oh, have I?" Dorian laughed.

Fenris didn't answer. Together they managed a proper angle, Fenris slowly lowering himself on Dorian's cock. Dorian shut his eyes, hands immediately going to Fenris's hips. He hesitated, about to remove them, when Fenris grabbed them.

"Keep hold," he whispered.

Dorian couldn't remember a time it felt better, and that it was Fenris – prickly and defensive, quiet and closed off – opening up to him now? It was brilliant. He opened his eyes slowly, smiling when Fenris looked down at him, lips parted, breathing heavily.

"You all right?" Dorian whispered. "Maker, but you're gorgeous."

A very slight tinge of color rose in Fenris's cheeks. "I… this is good." He swallowed hard, still clutching one of Dorian's hands. "Really good."

"Fenris." Dorian reached up, cupping his cheek. "Is this okay?"

Fenris nodded quickly, and Dorian was worried to see the vulnerability in his face.

"Fenris, I promise you-"

"Shut up," Fenris breathed.

"I won't hurt you."

"You're annoying."

Dorian laughed. "I've been called that." He let his fingertips slid down from Fenris's cheek, over his chest and stomach, watching his abs flex before gripping his cock and giving it a good, firm stroke. "Might be too early to call it love."

"Definitely," Fenris grunted, and squeezed around him.

Dorian inhaled, thrusting up instinctively. "Maybe… someday."

Fenris leaned down to kiss him. "Maybe," he whispered against his lips.

They fell silent, Dorian thrusting up to meet him as Fenris rode him quickly, head thrown back in abandon. Though all their couplings were intimate, Dorian trusting him completely, there was something _more_ now. It wasn't just about getting off, not just about enjoying the tight, hot ass around his prick as Fenris thrust down on him, or the delicious noises he made when Dorian stroked his cock. He couldn't think, his head spinning, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Fenris was intoxicating to him, and he was falling hard and fast.

He came hard, a keening cry escaping the back of his throat, tears pricking at his eyes. Fenris covered his hand with his own and together they stroked him to completion, warm spatters of seed coating Dorian's chest and stomach. Reaching up with his free hand, Dorian quickly wiped his eyes and looked up, but Fenris had already seen the emotion there. With a frown, though Dorian hoped it was concern and not derision, Fenris cupped his cheek, then leaned down and kissed him hard. Dorian opened himself to Fenris, wincing as Fenris slid off him, and clutched his hand.

"It's okay," Fenris whispered when they broke apart.

"Yes," Dorian breathed, though he wasn't sure what he really meant.

What was okay? Nothing really felt okay. He felt like running, actually. Far, far away from Fenris. Something inside him twisted painfully. The thought of being away from Fenris was simply not acceptable. 

"Gotta… take care of…" He muttered, and gently pushed him away before stumbling toward the bathroom. Inside, he shut the door, pulled the condom from his prick, and looked at himself in the mirror. And he knew.

He _was_ in love. And it was terrifying.


	20. Chapter 20

He stayed in the bathroom for a long time. After relieving himself and cleaning himself up, he sat on the closed toilet seat lid, the fuzzy cover soft against his bare ass. Elbows on his knees, he leaned forward, scrubbing his hands over his face. It shouldn't have been that serious of a discovery. It was the natural progression of things, or so he'd been told. You meet someone, you have fantastic sex, you go on a few dates, you move in and fall in love, get married, et cetera. But he never could get past the 'sex' part of a relationship in the past. Was it false, then? The first opportunity he had to actually be with someone for more than a night and he was thinking he was in love?

But then he thought about Fenris. Normally quiet and reserved, even while they were making love. _Having sex?_ he corrected mentally, but it didn't sound right to him anymore. Fenris spoke softly, giving orders, growling at him when he did something wrong. Dorian loved to be told what to do, enjoyed the feeling of the ropes around his wrists and ankles, loved how Fenris teased him and made him scream. But afterward, he was tender and soft and sweet. And even out of bed, he was as well. He didn't mind Dorian cuddling up to him, and sometimes their make out sessions were just that. Sex wasn't necessary for him to enjoy Fenris's company. Bad takeout and even worse movies. He even liked it when Fenris got annoyed with him for something foolish he might have said or done. And he never wanted it to stop.

A soft knock on the door made him look up.

"Dorian?"

"Sure, just…" He lost the ability to speak, words caught in his throat.

The door opened and Fenris edged inside, shutting it behind him. "You're not all right."

"No, not really." He frowned.

Fenris hesitated, then walked the three steps to the toilet, knelt down on the bath mat, and placed a hand on his knee. "What?"

"Stupid things, really," Dorian assured him. "I was just… it's… hm." He laughed, slightly uncomfortable. "I'm afraid if I say it, you'll run away and never return."

Fenris frowned. "I don't…"

"I don't know how to say it. I just feel..."

Fenris took a breath. "Go ahead, then."

"I'm in love with you."

The words echoed off the tile walls and in his ears. He looked at Fenris, who thankfully hadn't looked away.

"And now you're not saying anything." Dorian forcibly exhaled, sitting up straight. "I'm afraid I've gone and ruined a very good thing. So if you'd like, we can-"

"Shut up."

"You do enjoy telling me to shut up. I would think by now you know that doesn't work."

Fenris smirked. "I'll have to remember a ball gag as well as nipple clamps."

"You are such a romantic." Dorian let out a laugh. "Ah, well. You're not running away."

"No," Fenris confirmed.

"But you don't feel the same." Was it important that Fenris felt the same? It would certainly be nice. It would feel less one-sided. "You know what? It doesn't matter." And he was telling the truth. Fenris wasn't leaving. And he didn't seem to be put off by the confession.

Fenris sighed. "I have no intention of leaving. That is what I can promise you for now."

"Ah, I feel like a silly schoolboy," Dorian admitted. "Bit foolish, I am." He leaned down and kissed Fenris on the forehead. "It's a bit new for me. Walking into something like this."

Fenris stood and pulled him to his feet. Dorian let himself be led back into the bedroom, and Fenris flicked the light switch off.

"I would like to continue this for as long as it's comfortable for us both," Fenris said, as they slipped under the covers.

"It seems a fair statement," Dorian agreed, pleased when Fenris gestured him to his side. Warm and muscled, Fenris wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed his shoulder. "I know you said you didn't want to talk about your exes."

Fenris grunted.

"I just feel like I need to reiterate the point. Whatever they did to hurt you, I won't do it."

"You couldn't."

Dorian was nearly asleep when Fenris spoke again.

"Danarius was married."

"Hm?" Dorian tried to roll over to look at him, but Fenris held him tightly. Instead, he relaxed in his arms, and simply listened.

"Danarius. The first person I was ever with. He was married. Found me in a shithole kitchen in Seheron, working overnights as a third job to pay for an apartment the size of a closet. My sister was a few years older than me. We had a place, but she left to be with her junkie boyfriend. I couldn't pay rent so I moved to another place."

Dorian kept silent for once. Maybe this was what Anders meant, Fenris needing someone to talk to. But he couldn't imagine Fenris sitting in an office, talking to some stranger about the things that made him so guarded. Gently, he slid his hand over Fenris's, entwining their fingers. Fenris squeezed.

"Danarius found me and offered to take me in. All I had to do was clean his house. I figured full room and board in some rich man's house was better than working a hundred hours a week for a crap apartment and no time to do anything but sleep. So I went. I was stupid."

"You couldn't have known."

"No, but growing up how I did, you'd think that I would have learned a few things," he sighed. "I am not drunk enough to continue this story."

"You don't have to."

"Do you have any wine? Or something stronger?"

Dorian reluctantly slid out of the warm bed, shivering as his bare feet hit the floor. He crossed to the kitchenette and pulled a glass from the dishwasher and a bottle of scotch from the cabinet. He poured a generous measure before returning to bed with both. Fenris sat up and knocked it back, coughing. Dorian held the bottle, waiting.

"He was married. His wife…" Fenris shifted to his back, propped up on the pillow. "She was pretty. Black hair and blue eyes. Hadriana. Much younger than he was."

Dorian poured from the bottle, listening.

"They would fuck when they knew I was there. Middle of cleaning or doing some odd job around their house. Usually had her bent over a desk or something. At first, I was embarrassed. But then… he asked me if I wanted a turn. I thought it was a trap, but I was young." He laughed wryly. "Horny."

Dorian bit his tongue to keep whatever jovial sarcasm from spilling forth.

"It just escalated from there. I would fuck her and eventually he would fuck me. We'd share her one night or…" He shook his head. "I thought it was good. But then they started to get…" He sipped slowly this time. "Vicious. Insulting me. Calling me a knife-ear. Saying that I was only good for a hole. Then… Ah. Danarius started getting rough. In and out of bed. And Hadriana encouraged it."

"…That's despicable." Dorian suddenly felt a growing need to find these people and bury them. Whether literally or figuratively, he wasn't sure.

"After one too many trips to the hospital, I got tired of it. I left." He emptied his glass, and Dorian filled it once more before capping the bottle and setting it aside. "I wandered for a bit. They contacted me a few times. Sent police after me, saying I stole jewelry and things. But as I only had a backpack full of clothes and an empty wallet, they couldn't make any charges stick. I almost wished they had. Prison? That was better than living on the street."

Dorian couldn't even imagine. The hardships he suffered when he left home – not knowing how to run a load of laundry or make his own bed – seemed trivial and childish in comparison to what Fenris described.

"Eventually I came to Kirkwall. Lived in a shelter for a while. Found a job in a gym, actually."

"Hence the gorgeous physique?" Dorian guessed.

Fenris smirked. "Yes. I kept up the routine, they paid me well and I was learning how to kickbox. Among other things. I was living out of the shelter, though the gym had everything I needed. Shower, overnight hours if I wanted to stay there instead of going back to the shelter. I didn't have a car or anywhere else to go."

"How did you meet Hawke?"

"I'm getting to that." He sipped, then dragged hand over his face. "I had… Problems. I was angry. Scared. I thought I was… hmph. Useless. So I would work extra hard. Stayed late at the gym. Worked out every day. It got to the point where I dropped. Just fainted one day. They took me to the hospital and I was diagnosed with…" He waved a hand, as if it wasn't important. "I met Anders first, actually. I didn't want to talk to him. He recommended a therapist. Dr. Thekla. Decent enough man but I hated going. I knew I could work through it on my own."

"And did you?" Dorian asked gently.

"How do you think I got these?" Fenris asked, stretching out his arms, running a finger over the tattoos. "I continued my job at the gym, but every time I felt like I needed to push myself beyond routine, I went to the parlor instead. They usually say to wait twenty-four or forty-eight hours after you get inked to work out again. So I could train someone, but not go through it myself. It became a good balance. I learned."

"But… you have the tattoos all over your body," Dorian said. "Does that mean-"

"Two years, more or less," Fenris admitted. He finished his glass and handed it to Dorian, who put it aside. "Two years with Anders checking up on me nearly every week."

"You really don't like him."

"He's seen me at my worst. It… isn't something I like to be reminded of. And he is a constant, annoying reminder."

"You met Hawke through him?"

"We went out for drinks. I thought it was odd. Hawke offered me a job. And a place to stay. I took the job. Was more wary about the place, considering…"

"Understandable. When did you move in with him?"

"The winter that it snowed in Kirkwall."

Dorian laughed a little. "I remember that. It was almost unprecedented. The temperatures back home were awful, too."

Fenris leaned against him, and Dorian slid his arm around his shoulders.

"He didn't ask anything of me. No cooking, no cleaning. And he and Anders were respectful of my space, even though it was Hawke's house. I felt… safe."

"You were. Hawke obviously cares about you. Especially if he broke his friend's jaw over you."

Fenris laughed quietly, then pushed Dorian to lie down, curled up against him in a pleasant change. "That's another story. For another time."

"Maybe you could tell it sober," Dorian joked, and kissed his forehead.

"Not likely."

"Well. It just wouldn't be like you if you did."

Pleased, feeling somewhat euphoric though the entirety of his earlier fear hadn't quite fled, Dorian fell asleep.


	21. Chapter 21

As far as traveling went, Dorian thought that a giant, comfortable tour bus was definitely the way to go. Though he rather detested the ferry ride from Kirkwall to Westhill, the inside of their double-decker bus was extremely comfortable. It had a lounge area which was tastefully decorated, a large TV, a full dining nook and a bathroom. Upstairs were the beds, partitioned off for privacy. Though they likely wouldn't need the overnight accommodations, Dorian thought it might be nice to travel this way in the future. It was slower than going by plane, but far, far more enjoyable. 

He was only disappointed to learn that most of the crew was on the second bus, and this one was reserved for the 'talent.' While he was happy enough to chat lightly with the other models, he was reminded of the socialites back home. Perhaps on any other day he would be fine talking about other people, but he was feeling horribly selfish today, and Fenris was only too happy to indulge him. They sat on one of the larger beds on the second tier, Dorian with his head in Fenris's lap as a B-rated horror film played on his laptop. The rest of their coworkers were downstairs, enjoying lunch and an obnoxious reality TV program on the large screen.

"Felix says the doctors cleared him for travel. Supposedly he's getting better."

Fenris ran his fingers idly through Dorian's hair, his other hand resting on his shoulder. He didn't respond, which was fine. They both seemed to enjoy it this way: Dorian talking a mile a minute about whatever popped into his head, and Fenris keeping quiet until he was asked a question or otherwise had something interesting to say.

"He and his father are coming to see us tomorrow before the show. You wouldn't mind having breakfast with them, would you?" Introducing Fenris to Felix and Alexius would be a very nice step in their relationship toward a true commitment, Dorian thought. He wondered how long it would be before he introduced him to his father. "Father won't be coming," he added. "He had a prior engagement, but he says he'll watch the highlights reel and I'm sure it'll be all over the internet. I told him I'd send him a signed photo. He laughed." It was a surprisingly good conversation. Funny that it only took half a continent apart for them to come together.

"I'll come to breakfast."

Dorian looked at him, upside down, and grinned. "You will?"

Fenris nodded. "Mm."

"It would mean a lot to me. And I just know they'll love you. Well. You do make an awfully good first impression. I remember the first time I saw you, sitting in my restaurant. This gorgeous elf with great big green eyes who just radiated sex."

Fenris snorted.

"No, you did. It's embarrassing to admit it but I instantly had a crush on you. Looked you up and everything."

"And bookmarked my profile."

Dorian sighed. "Are we going to continue to bring this up? Yes. I found you attractive and I wasn't sure when I would be able to look at you again. And then you were at work. _Shirtless_ ," he added.

"It's been known to happen."

"So what were you thinking when you kissed me that day? Because I must say, it confused the ever living Void out of me."

"'I wish he would shut up.'"

"Seriously?" Dorian scowled when Fenris smirked. "Stop teasing me."

"You enjoy it."

Dorian sighed. "I do. I really do." He rubbed his cheek idly against Fenris's leg. "What do you normally spend your time on the bus doing? You must have been to quite a few shows."

"Dancing."

Dorian sighed again, this time making a big show of it to let Fenris know he knew he was teasing. "And the truth?"

Fenris shrugged. "What I'm doing now. Without the added conversation."

Dorian set the laptop aside and turned onto his stomach. Fenris stretched out his legs and leaned back, smirking as Dorian wriggled upward to kiss him.

"Tell me about a show you've been to."

"Val Royeaux," Fenris said, holding him lightly as Dorian settled against his chest. "It was… different. We were showing off the latest Free Marches fashion."

"Oh?" he murmured, listening to the rumbling in Fenris's chest. He arched against him when Fenris's hand came up under his shirt, rubbing his back. "Mm."

"Bethany was stressed because the venue's runway was several hands shorter than it should have been. We didn't have time for a practice run because the bus broke down in Val Chevin and we had to take a taxi to get there. The clothes made it but everything else was in the vans."

"Sounds doomed from the start," Dorian laughed. "Poor Bethany."

"She's very good at keeping her head, despite it all. And of course Hawke tried to help things-"

"Oh?"

"It was a spectacular shouting match. No one talks about how Bethany emasculated her brother in front of the entire crew."

Dorian looked up at him, eyebrow raised. "Truly?"

"Mm. Aside from Anders, I'm not sure anyone else has ever spoken to him that way before. He wasn't used to it."

"So what did he do?" Dorian asked, shifting again to his back, pulling the laptop close again.

Fenris pulled the hem of his shirt up, fingers playing along the flat plane of his abs. "Walked away. What could he have done? If he shouted back, he would undermine her authority. Hawke may own the company and scout for talent, but Bethany runs it."

"Iron fist?"

"Mm."

Dorian jerked involuntarily when Fenris's fingers brushed over a nipple. "Stop that!"

"There is one thing I've never done a tour bus," Fenris purred against his ear, and pinched him sharply.

Dorian closed the laptop, set it aside, and grinned.

-

The Gnawed Noble was a relic of the past. Renovated in previous years, it was restored to look like it did when it was first built. Rich mahogany floors, a proper marble bar, and warm lighting to imitate candlelight, though the high windows let in a lot of morning sun. The booths were built for privacy, with low walls surrounding them, inset with stained glass windows and latching doors. Dorian was only deterred from trying them out because they were waiting for Felix and Alexius. Though Fenris sitting next to him, hand on his thigh, tempted him.

"Are you nervous?" Dorian asked.

"No."

"You _are_ ," Dorian teased, kissing his cheek. "Don't worry. It's only my best friend and the man who's been like a father to me nearly my whole life."

"…Right."

"Oh Fenris, you look positively green. Like I said before, they will love you." He leaned up in his seat to look out, and saw two familiar shapes through the stained glass. "There they are!"

He slid out of the booth and very nearly skipped out of the little room, grinning. Fenris followed, albeit with less enthusiasm. With a grin to match Dorian's, Felix lifted a hand. Dorian's smile faltered a bit. Felix looked… pale. And he was walking slowly, Alexius at his side, matching his pace, hand on his back. Dorian cleared his throat, embraced his friend, and kissed his cheek.

"I'm so happy you're both here!" He tried to inject the confidence and enthusiasm into his voice that he'd felt just moments before. But it was hard, the concern for his friend overtaking his jovial mood. He embraced Alexius next, then gestured to Fenris. "My boyfriend, Fenris." And it felt so good to say it that way. "Fenris, Felix, and Gereon Alexius who, despite all appearances to the contrary, isn't just a stick in the mud with a frowny face."

"Thank you, Dorian," Alexius sighed, leaning forward to shake Fenris's hand. "Good to finally meet you. Dorian's spoken of you often."

"Has he?" Fenris asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well," Felix said, as they returned to the booth, "it's Dorian. He never shuts up about himself."

"Or anything," Fenris agreed.

"Oh _fantastic_ ," Dorian said with biting sarcasm. "I see you've found something to bond over. This should be a wonderful morning."

"You've brought this on yourself," Felix said.

"He usually does," Fenris added.

Dorian sighed.


	22. Chapter 22

The show was fast paced and nerve wracking, as terrible as it was wonderful. If Dorian thought the last few weeks were hard, working long days and falling to bed exhausted, the show itself was absolutely draining, but in the best way possible. He felt the excitement of the crowd, fed from the energy, enjoyed every minute he was in the spotlight. The quick wardrobe changes were executed perfectly, Bethany on top of every one of them, issuing succinct orders, the rehearsals they ran daily really coming in handy. And after, while he wanted nothing more than to soak in a hot bath, all they had time for was a quick shower and then they were off to the after party in one of Denerim's fanciest hotels.

"Dorian!"

Dorian was extremely photogenic, but it was the first time he could turn to a camera with someone next to him. Fenris had an arm wrapped somewhat protectively around his waist, and Dorian loved it. They posed together for the picture, Dorian tipping his champagne glass and a wink toward the woman who snapped it.

"You're very popular," Fenris noted.

"So are you," Dorian said. "Together we make quite a fetching pair."

"Mm. So long as…"

"Long as what?" Dorian asked, looking down at him.

"Hmph. So long as everyone knows you are mine."

Dorian shivered. Fenris had certainly taken aggressive steps in their relationship. And Dorian found that he very much enjoyed the possessive side of him. "My love, there is no one else I would rather be with." He leaned down and kissed him, then whispered in his ear, "Besides, no one else can make me scream the way you do."

"All right, break it up."

Dorian looked up, grinning as his guests approached. "Felix! Did you enjoy the show?" He waved down a passing waiter, procuring a glass for both of them.

Felix declined. "It was certainly different."

"Quite," Alexius agreed. "You looked comfortable on stage." He took a glass, sipping, while keeping an eye on Felix, who looked a little tired.

"I had a lot of fun. It was hard work but I think we – Felix?" Dorian saw his friend's eyes gloss over, and not in the usual way they did when he started to speak about something.

Felix shook his head. "I'm all right. Just a bit tired..."

Fenris, with his quick reflexes, caught Felix before he hit the ground, unconscious.

The next few seconds were a flurry of panic, Alexius crying out for his son, champagne glass dropped, as Fenris lowered Felix to the floor.

Dorian ignored the crowd clamoring around them and shouted over their heads for the one person he knew who could help. "Anders!"

Anders appeared out of nowhere, pushing through the crowd, tugging his jacket it off. "Call the hospital," he ordered Dorian. He folded his jacket and tucked it under Felix's head, checking his pulse. "Fenris, get me a cold cloth." Then, to Alexius, "Is he on any medication?"

Dorian didn't hear the rest, hands shaking as he pulled his phone from his pocket to call the emergency line. He couldn't remember what he said, but thought he was calm, hearing his own voice as if he was outside his body. Anders rolled up the sleeves of his shirt before loosening Felix's bowtie and undoing the top button. Fenris returned with the cloth and that was placed on Felix's forehead. It was almost like watching a movie or a TV show, and later Dorian would wonder if it was the adrenaline that took over that made him feel so calm.

The ambulance arrived in minutes with a stretcher, the crowd staying back. Fenris and Hawke kept the reporters from taking any pictures as Felix was lifted up and strapped down. He opened his eyes briefly as an oxygen mask was placed over his nose and mouth.

"Felix?" Alexius asked, his voice breaking.

Anders gripped his arm. "Your son will be fine. Come on. Let's go with them. Hawke?"

"Go on, love. I'll meet you there later."

Anders walked with Alexius, stepping into the back of the ambulance with the emergency responders, explaining Felix's condition and what happened. Dorian, who felt like time had slowed down during the entire process, felt it speed up again, and turned to Fenris, shaking.

"We're going to the hospital," Fenris said to Hawke, and Dorian was grateful he wasn't obligated to stay here. He was even more grateful that Fenris said 'we' and would be there with him.

Hawke nodded. "I'll be there when I can. Take one of the cars."

Fenris grabbed Dorian roughly by the elbow, pulling him through the milling crowd, the reporters who all seemed to want to ask him the same questions: Who was his friend? What was wrong with him? How did he feel about it? Fenris glared, and if they hadn't parted for him, Dorian was fairly sure he would've started knocking them out. In the safety and quiet of the back of a sleek black rental, he took a moment to breathe.

"We'll be at the hospital in twenty minutes," Fenris informed him. "He's with Anders. He'll be fine… Put your head between your knees."

Dorian loosened his bowtie and unbuttoned his shirt, leaning forward. He felt Fenris's hand, warm and comforting on his back, and took several deep breaths.

"The only other time I can remember when he scared me that badly is when he put his arm through a sliding glass door when we were kids. There was so much blood and I was so terrified. We were playing around…" He shook his head, lacing his fingers behind his neck. "Maker's breath, Fenris, I can't lose him."

The arm slid around his shoulders and pulled him close. Fenris pressed his cheek against his side. "You won't. He likely just overexerted himself. He'll need rest and fluids and he'll be fine."

Dorian nodded, swallowing. Still, it was difficult to face the idea that his best friend _could_ die. It was easier to think of him as being 'fine' when he was miles away. "I shouldn't have made him come."

"Stop. If you start blaming yourself now, you'll never get out of that cycle. Don't do that."

Dorian sat up, leaning against Fenris slightly. "Poor Alexius. He must be out of his mind."

"Then you'll be there for him. As I will for you."

"You… say the sweetest things, you know that?" It was easier, much easier to deal with this with Fenris by his side. He took his hand, entwining their fingers.

"… I don't mean to? I just think this is how things are supposed to be."

"When you love someone?" Dorian asked carefully.

Fenris gave him a look. "I don't know 'love'. But if it makes you feel better, very well."

Dorian squeezed his hand. "Even if you never said it, Fenris, as long as you stayed with me. That's what matters."

"…Sebastian made me say it. Often. After a while it became as meaningless as a cashier asking you how your day was. They don't care."

"And you didn't really love him?" Dorian asked, grateful for the distracting conversation as the driver navigated Denerim's downtown traffic.

"I did. I thought I did." Fenris frowned. "At some point it was probably true."

"Then you stopped?" he asked gently, carefully watching Fenris's expression.

"He… hn. Tried to convince me to join a cult."

"What?!" It was the sort of thing you heard about on the news, not first-hand. "Seriously?"

"Yes. And I almost went. Hawke… ah, there was a fight. I was angry for a long time. But I realized it was better. Learning experience," he said. "Hawke's always been good to me."

"And Anders," Dorian noted.

Fenris huffed. "Yes, fine. Him as well."

Dorian leaned in, and Fenris met him for a chaste, comforting kiss.

"I would like you to mean everything you say to me," Dorian said thoughtfully once they parted. "Whether it's in anger or love. What's the point otherwise?"

"I… agree."

"I promise to give you the same courtesy."

Fenris smiled slightly. "All right."

Dorian squeezed his hand again and they fell into a comfortable silence.


	23. Epilogue

In the end, Anders pressed for Felix and Alexius to return with them to Kirkwall where he could examine Felix more closely at his own hospital. Dorian was overjoyed at having them in the city, and visited them nearly every day. Through perseverance and skill, Anders was able to discover the underlying cause for the illness. A poisonous plant called _tenebris pario_ which was rare in Tevinter. When its spores were ingested it caused shortness of breath, dizziness, and eventually would erode the lining of the lungs. Having studied in Ferelden where an outbreak happened a little over a decade ago, Anders recognized the symptoms right away and put Felix on a proper treatment for it.

"He might never fully recover, but with medication and physical therapy he'll be just fine to live a normal life."

He prescribed a lot of bed rest to start, employing the uses of many herbal remedies, and eventually Felix and Alexius returned to Tevinter a few months later. Dorian was sad to see them go, but pleased that Felix was well enough to return to work. Alexius couldn't thank him enough, and Anders quickly became overwhelmed and embarrassed with the praise, trying to refuse the money that Alexius pressed on him. It came instead in the form of a very, very large donation to Anders' hospital, for which he was lauded by the hospital's director.

Dorian meanwhile, kept in contact with his father regularly, talking about his work, how much he enjoyed it, and thought he would stay in Kirkwall another year to continue his career. Politics had never truly suited him, but he _was_ more interested in the business side of things, and began working more closely with Bethany to better understand how to organize and delegate. Perhaps in another year or two he would consider opening his own studio, or something similar.

Through his friends' prodding, he ended up voting in absentia for the next Archon, surprised yet pleased when a more progressive one was voted in over the incumbent. He struggled with the idea of returning to push for more liberal laws, the one true thing keeping him in Kirkwall currently curled against his side while they watched a movie.

"I'm going home for Wintersend. You'll come?"

Fenris grunted.

"You can meet my parents."

"Hng."

"Pleeeease?"

"If it means that much to you."

Dorian grinned. In the end, he usually got his own way. "Maybe someday I'll move back and you can come with me."

"Or we can buy a house here."

"Truly?"

Fenris looked up at him. "Why not?"

"Are you doing this just to keep me here?"

"Mm." Fenris settled back down.

Dorian grinned. "You _are_. You must really like me."

"Maker only knows why."

But Fenris looked up again and pulled him down for a kiss.

"Fine," Dorian agreed. "I'll stay. And we can buy a house. And get married."

Fenris laughed. "We'll see."

Dorian hugged him tightly, pleased that in the end, things really did work out for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly going on a slight hiatus while I work on my newest AU. You might see a couple one-shots from me here and there but nothing larger until I get this AU finished.
> 
> Feel free to drop me a line if you want to talk - contact info's in the profile.
> 
> Thank you guys for being so wonderful and for reading my stuff. <3


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